Solipsism
by wahs96
Summary: "What do we know about him?" "Not much, professor. He was covered in dirt and sand, the uniform he was wearing was very weathered. Nothing in his pockets except for ammunition, explosives, and maps. There was a radio too but we can't get it to connect on any channel." "Insignia?" "Just one thing, over his left breast pocket on the uniform. It reads 'U.S. Army'."
1. Sand

The sand got into everything, and the HMMWV's were by no means airtight. On the floor board by the pedals there was a small collection of it, a pool of sand, and there seemed to be a thin layer on all of the surfaces. It was in his boots, between the soul and his socks, and in his socks, between his skin and the fabric. He felt the sand, whether it was there or not, always. It covered his skin, coated him. Sometimes he thought that his skin had become sand, that who he was and this world he was in was held together by it. The sand of the desert.

He was driving the lead HMMWV in the convoy, navigating the armored truck down the wide highway, going from nowhere, to nowhere, by way of nowhere. But somewhere out in all of this nowhere there were supposedly bad guys, that's what the intel said, so they kept moving.

He turned and looked at the junior officer in the shotgun seat. "Hey LT, how much further?"

The Lieutenant shook his head. "Jesus Christ, Cobin, you sound like my damn eight-year-old son. We'll get there when we damn well get there," he said before resuming his passive scanning of the horizon.

Sergeant First Class Cobin rolled his eyes and turned all of his attention back on the road ahead. The new Lieutenant had some gall alright, but he also had balls to come and sit in the lead truck and not hide out somewhere in the middle of the convoy, and Cobin respected that. For the most part Cobin like Lieutenant Grossman, but all new LT's always seemed to have this need to throw their weight around whenever they first got to Group, and Cobin figured it was about time that Grossman started acting less like a boss and more like a leader.

"Hey, Stamps!" Cobin said, knocking on the roof of the HMMWV. "You see anything?"

"Naw," Stamps yelled from above him in the turret gunner's position, "I think I see goat at about ten-o'clock though, can I shoot it?"

"Fuck no you can't shoot it, Stamps!"

"Roger, sergeant." The noise of the HMMWV was too loud to hear Stamps sigh in disappointment, but Cobin knew it was there.

Stamps was the other new guy in the ODA, a brand new Sergeant straight off the street and into the Special Forces. The 18X program had allowed people with no military experience to jump right into some of the most elite units in the United States military. It was maybe mid-way through this deployment, and Cobin still doubted the new batch of 18X soldiers that had come into his Army, but Stamps seemed like a good kid, if a bit immature at times.

"So LT," Cobin said, "in the briefing that the Major gave he said this was a capture mission, what's the unofficial line?"

The LT sighed, "Realistically, this guy we're going after isn't a huge player, just a mid-level warlord with some connections. Any useful information he has will be on his cell phone, so if it looks like he's getting away, go ahead and pop him. I'll cover you guys from the bureaucrats back at the FOB if we end up bringing this guy back in a body bag."

"Roger, sir." And that's what Cobin liked about Grossman, he was a no-bullshit officer. A rare find in this day and age.

Cobin looked at his watch, time for a roll call. He grabbed the handset for the radio off the dash of the truck and brought it to where the speaker was on the outside of his pro-mask. "Chaos-One, this is Chaos-One-Alpha, all vehicles check in, in descending order, over."

The radio squawked on and off as every vehicle in the convoy radioed in their status all the way down the line. "Chaos-One-Alpha, this is Chaos-One-Bravo, green, over…" and so on.

When the roll call was over all that was left to do was stare out into the waist of this desert and pray that someone starts shooting soon so the boredom will finally be relieved.

Then it happened.

"Sergeant!" Stamps yelled from the radio tower, "I got something, a couple hundred yards down the road!"

"Roger, Stamps." Cobin said, squinting through the heat haze to try and see what Stamps was talking about. It very quickly came into view. A parked vehicle, by the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere. Cobin grabbed for the radio again. "Chaos-One, this is Chaos-One-Alpha, all vehicles halt, possible IED." Cobin moved his foot from the gas to the break and brought the HMMWV to a stop.

Grossman grunted, "Fuck, alright, you know the drill. Lets set up a perimeter."

Grossman moved for the door latch, but Cobin grabbed his shoulder. "Sir, at least allow your men to get into position before you step out of the vehicle and expose yourself. I won't be able talk my way out of it if _you_ come back in a body bag."

Grossman nodded and lowered his hand. Within seconds, several soldiers from the vehicles behind them had moved up and took firing positions in front of the lead truck. Cobin removed his hand from the LT's shoulder and nodded. Grossman, seeming impatient, shoved the door of the HMMWV open and stepped out with his rifle at the high-ready. Cobin and Stamps, as the driver and gunner respectively, would remain in the vehicle for the time being.

Cobin scanned the road and land before him as the other soldiers went about their procedures and set up the permitter. The camera feeding into his visor from the outside of his pro mask was clear enough, but totally restricted his peripheral vision. The new protective masks, or "pro-masks," doubled as light facial armor as well as NVGs and infrared goggles. In Cobin's opinion, all the tech that was built into them wasn't enough to compensate for the fact that he couldn't see if a guy was coming for him from his nine or three o'clock, and if he had the choice he wouldn't wear it, but intel said there was like a 17% possibility of chemical based weapons, so the pro-masks went on.

Cobin sighed, he wasn't going to be doing much but sitting here for a minute so he took the liberty of closing his eyes, taking a three or four second blink to imagine something other than dust and sand and dead insurgents in nothing but rags for clothes. And it was in this moment that he figured out the vehicle up ahead was a decoy. He came to this understanding just a millisecond after the IED that had buried in the sand directly behind where his vehicle had come to a halt detonated, sending his HMMWV tumbling forward into the air. It was a several second tumble-dryer of pain as his body bounced around in the driver's seat, and everything had already gone black by the time the truck stopped moving.

It was dark, too dark to see. But Cobin could feel his body, splayed out. There was no pain now, just a tingling sensation in the darkness. Slowly, starting at his fingertips and his toes, he felt himself dissolve, turn into the sand that he loathed so much. From the outside-in he crumbled away into nothing, into the dark. The sand consumed him like a virus, and he just layed paralyzed in horror as felt himself disappear from the world. This feeling continued until all that was left was his eyes. The sand came for his eyes, too. But then…

But then…

He woke up.


	2. Tuesday

When Cobin woke up, he was instantly blinded by light, as if his eyes hadn't been open in a very, very long time. Slowly, the inside of the HMMWV became clear, but it was so bright outside of the truck's windows that he couldn't see beyond them. He shook his head and the sand fell out of the nooks and crannies in his helmet and armor. He tried to move and felt the heavy straps of the HMMWV's seat hold him in.

"What the hell…" He said, looking around the inside of the truck, "Stamps? Lieutenant?" But no response came. He turned his head, straining his neck to see behind himself toward where Stamp's should have been standing in the gunner's position. But no one was there. Next he tried the handset, but it was completely dead, not even static came from the radio's speaker, and Cobin threw it to the floor of the truck in frustration. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" He muttered, reaching forward to push the ignition button on the center console. The engine made one desperate, gargling attempt to turn over before dying completely. "Shit, shit, shit, shit…" That was it, his adrenaline was spiking as he went into full combat-veteran-panic-mode and all of his actions and thoughts became reflexes and reactions based on countless hours of experience and training. He pushed the button on the safety belts, releasing himself and patted down his chest plate, feeling for his equipment. Mags, check. Grenades, check. Side arm, check. There was something off…

His rifle. Where was his rifle.

He didn't get a chance to answer that question before there was a tap on the driver's side window. Cobin's head swiveled to see someone in some kind of armor or uniform on the outside of the HMMWV looking straight at him and tapping on the bulletproof glass with a pistol. As soon as this person saw that Cobin had seen him, he stopped his tapping and with his spare hand began to reach for the outside latch of door. In these moments what Cobin's brain processed boiled down to: _Uniformed combatant, armed, threat, attempting to gain access. Defend the vehicle._

When the latch clicked open Cobin put all of his power into the door and pushed it straight into the guy on the other side, propelling the unknown enemy onto his back and Cobin straight out of the vehicle like a rocket ship, ending with him standing over the confused assailant. Without giving this enemy another opportunity to react Cobin put his foot down hard into the armored faceplate of the guy on the ground, knocking him unconscious. "Hey, Stop!" Cobin heard from his left side. Cobin hadn't noticed that the first attacker had a friend. _Stupid pro-mask,_ Cobin thought as he swiveled around just in time to see a second enemy in the same uniform throw a right hook punch straight toward his head. Cobin threw up his left arm and blocked it, simultaneously straight-punching with his right fist into the soft spot just below his enemy's faceplate. Next came a swift front-foot snap-kick to the groin area, causing his opponent to let out a noise between a screech and a gasp, and freeze for just a moment, giving Cobin the opportunity to grasp the side of the enemy's helmet with his right hand and slam it with all his might into the heavily armored side panel of the HMMWV. This enemy too crumpled down to the ground, unconscious.

Cobin didn't waste any time by examining the scene, he simply turned around back toward the open door of the HMMWV and reached inside, toward his weapon where it rested on the center console between the two front seats. Cobin grabbed it and turned back around to the outside of the truck, rifle at the high-ready. When he finally took a moment to observe where he was, he found himself in the middle of a large concrete mall or plaza of some kind. There was virtually no cover at all save for the HMMWV at his back. There were buildings but the nearest one was at least a hundred yard sprint away. What made the situation more terrifying than anything though, was the crowd of people forming a circle around his position, watching. They all had a comfortable distance between themselves and Cobin, and the well weathered soldier could see that most of them were frightened, slowly backing away. Except for four, who stood their ground and only seemed to be becoming increasingly angry…

…

The four members of team RWBY had noticed the crowd and general commotion going on in the outdoor common area as they exited the Beacon dining hall. Maybe a hundred or so yards away stood a wall of people, all moving nervously and whispering to one another. Most of the team seemed disinterested, but Yang felt like something was up.

"Hey guys, lets go check this out." She said.

Blake, Weiss, and their leader Ruby responded with a collective groan. "But… post-lunch naptime!" Yang's younger sister muttered.

Yang shook her head. Her sister was a hell of a fighter but her young age became apparent seemingly at the most annoying of times. "Come on, it will just take a minute." Yang said, walking off in the direction of the wall of people. The rest of the group followed grudgingly in tow.

"It's probably just Jaune dancing around in a dress again." Weiss said, rolling her eyes.

Blake cringed. "Oh please, no."

"I hope so!" said Ruby, "I forgot to take pictures last time."

Yang spearheaded the group through the thin wall of students all facing toward the very center of the main plaza. When the thing they were all staring at came into view, the situation only became more confusing. "A truck?" Yang asked.

"Looks military," Blake said, as that look of suspicion came over her face.

"Yeah…" Yang said, thinking "but didn't Ozpin forbid the General from moving his equipment and troops around in the student areas?"

Ruby, who had been silent, spoke up next. "Hey, Weiss, isn't that one of your company's robots in the front seat?"

"Huh?" The rest of the group sounded off simultaneously. They all squinted and did their best to peer into the passenger compartment from where they were standing. Sure enough, there was _something_ slumped forward, inactive in the driver's seat, and it appeared to have a metal face.

"That's weird," Weiss said, "really weird. But no, I do my best to stay up to date on the company projects but that doesn't look like any prototype I've seen schematics for."

"Something about this doesn't feel right." Blake said.

"Nothing about this feels right." Yang said.

Then, near the other side of the circle of students surrounding the vehicle, two Academy guards emerged from ranks of onlookers. "Everybody, stay back!" they yelled as they approached the vehicle. Ironically enough, Professor Ozpin kept the guards that patrolled the student areas particularly under-armed. Only one of the guards had a firearm, a small pistol, while the other was armed only with an extendable baton. The guard with a pistol was leading, and approached the driver's side window, peering inside at the figure on the other side of the glass, while the second guard stayed right behind him, looking into the window that lead to the backseat.

"Well, I guess that rules out the possibility of this being Ozpin or Ironwood." Blake said.

"Lets not make assumptions, yet." Weiss said.

"What? I'm just saying that…"

And then at that moment the drivers side door flew open, knocking the first guard to the ground. The figure that had been so limp and still behind the wheel jumped out and swiftly kicked the guard in the face with the heel of his boot, leaving the guard limp on his back. The second guard didn't even bother reaching for his baton before throwing a punch at the this metal-faced assailant, but the intruder blocked it and quickly rendered that guard unconscious as well. After having made short work of both the guards, the metal-faced man went to reach back into his vehicle, turning his back toward the four very powerful warriors that made up team RWBY. As he was doing this, Ruby took a step forward and made a grab for her beloved Crescent Rose where it stayed strapped to her lower back.

Yang put her hand on her sister's shoulder and tugged her back, ever so slightly. "Ruby, don't." She said, softly but sternly.

Ruby looked toward her sister. "But…" She managed to get out.

Then the metal face spoke.

…

"STOP!" Cobin yelled as he aimed his weapon toward the four females that stood defiantly before him. He was trying to keep a level head and follow his basic EOF, or Escalation-Of-Force . In the first steps of this basic procedure, he had to _Shout_ and _Show_ in order to deter a possible attack before resorting to lethal force. He had completed these first two steps by yelling and brandishing his weapon. Cobin's evaluation of the situation was grim; the next step in the proper order of the EOF would be to fire a warning shot, but that would not be an option. If he fired in the foreground in front of anyone's feet the bullet would surely ricochet off the hard concrete and cause an injury, or worse. In addition, the background was either buildings or unknown, so he couldn't fire over their heads for the risk of impacting an unwanted target somewhere down range. This left the last step in the basic EOF, which was lethal force itself. This made Cobin sweat bullets, because he was staring down the barrel of his weapon at four high-school aged girls, but one of them, the smallest, was definitely reaching for something behind her back. This was a delicate situation, and as Cobin scrambled to figure it out, he quietly whispered to himself- " _I won't go to Leavenworth."_

"STOP!" he yelled again, louder this time. The speaker in his pro-mask detected the heightened volume to his voice and amplified it artificially, making it as powerful as a blast from a megaphone. This seemed to make the smallest of the girls remove her hand from behind her back and step out of her offensive stance. This lifted a great deal of weight off of Cobin's mind, but now that his head was more clear he realized he was still in a very less-than-ideal situation. He was alone, and surrounded on all sides by possible threats. He had to remove himself, and find good cover.

In this moment, only one option came to Cobin's mind. It was drastic, unprofessional, and reproachable. But he saw few other options. Hanging from his vest he had two or three flashbang grenades left. Flasbangs, while theoratically non-lethal, were far from harmless, if one went off right under your ass you'd never really recover from it. Knowing this, he realized he couldn't just chuck a couple of them into the group of children all around him because of the permanent damage and injury it could cause. But he also knew that his own pro-mask, helmet, and armor would effectively shield him from all of the grenade's ill-effects from as close as five feet away. If he could cook it just right, so that he could throw the flashbang straight up and have it detonate ten or fifteen feet above his head, it would be enough to blind and disorient anyone around him who was looking straight at it, giving him a chance to make a break for that nearest building.

 _Suck on this, Leavenworth,_ Cobin thought as he dropped his weapon, allowing it to be caught by the three-point sling that attached it to his chest. Before the weapon had fallen all the way to it's rest position in the sling, Cobin's hand was already yanking the pin out of the flashbang. He let the spoon go, starting the timer, and held the little grenade in his hand for maybe a second and half before tossing it straight up and crouching to shield himself from the blast. Inside of the pro-mask that surrounded Cobin's face and head, the exploding of the flashbang sounded like nothing more than a loud POP! But that was his cue, and with it he exploded up from his crouched position and into a dead sprint, straight through the line of disoriented students holding their hands over their eyes in pain and confusion. He didn't stop until he burst through the doors of that nearest building, but as soon as he did he realized what a monumental mistake he had made.

The entire population of the Beacon main dining hall had gone completely silent as soon as this heavily armed and heavily armored individual had burst through the main entrance and interrupted their lunch period. It was an utterly massive room, and Cobin felt as though hundreds of eyes were suddenly on him. More possible threats. Cobin quickly glanced up at the ceiling to ensure there weren't any fixtures or anything that would fall or cause injury if it fell. Once he felt assured of what he was about to do, he didn't hesitate.

"EVERYONE GET THE FUCK OUT!" he screamed as he fired three shots into the ceiling. All of the faces in the crowd began to scream or yell as they scrambled over the tables and ran towards the rear exits. The huge crowd exited quickly, leaving only four standing to face him. This time, instead of four girls, it was two boys and two girls. It was time to _Shout_ and _Show_ again. "I said get the hell out!" Cobin yelled, pointing his weapon toward the group of four, all in various fighting or offensive stances. They didn't move. After a quick evaluation of the target and what was beyond, Cobin decided that this was an appropriate situation to employ a warning shot. He moved the barrel of his weapon to the side and fired twice into the wooden table next to where the group was standing, sending splinters into the air. They remained unphased.

Much to Cobin's horror, one of the four, a girl with orange hair suddenly began to smile wildly, the crack in her face spreading ear-to-ear like a virus. The orange haired girl sang out "The Queen of the Castle is coming for You!" and then appeared to pull a grenade launcher completely from the void. Cobin didn't give her a chance to aim it before he turned his sights on her and fired two controlled pairs of bullets straight at her. But just as he did, the black-haired male that was standing next to her tackled her to the ground, and the bullets flew over both them. The other two members of the group dropped below the tables as well, but Cobin kept firing over their heads, suppressing them as he retreated backward down to the end of the cafeteria. The only viable cover in the entire room was the counter where the food was probably handed out, with the kitchen on the other side, so this is where Cobin headed as he continued to fire his rifle in the direction of the Grenade Launcher Girl and her companions. Somewhere in all of this chaos, he thought to himself, _What the fuck is going on?_

…

 _What the fuck is going on out there?_ Lie Ren thought to himself as he sat with his team members at lunch. Lie was one to think something first and then vocalize it later if he wanted, but this particular thought didn't strike him as needing to be aired in public. Although he was rather troubled by the almost explosion-like sound that he had heard come from outside the dining hall. Team RWBY, which some of the instructors had taken to calling JNPR's 'sister-team,' had left only minutes ago, and wherever those girls went trouble was bound to follow. But right outside the cafeteria? That would be a new record.

Then the most unexpected thing of all happened. Bursting through the door with an incredible amount of force came someone, or possibly _something_ armed to the teeth. If the weapons and armor weren't enough, just the presence of this individual and the way it held itself made an undeniable statement of intent. There was a moment of silence as all of the Beacon students still on their lunch break locked eyes with this _thing_ that stood before them. Then all hell broke loose.

The metal-faced warrior barked an order, loudly, and fired his weapon into the ceiling of the dining hall. Everyone stood, most people screamed and ran for the exits, but in this moment all of the eyes belonging to team JNPR turned to Pyrrha, and her face itself said it all: _Hell no._ They all took their fighting stances and waited for what was surely to come. Lie was shaken, more than normal. There was something about the sheer volume of this intruders weapon that stunned him. It didn't sound like any firearm he had heard or handled. It was too loud. Way too loud.

It didn't take long for the metal-face to realize that there were four students remaining in his midst. He turned his weapon on them and barked another order. Lie was sure that an attack would be what followed, but to his surprise the metal-face turned his weapon to the side and fired into the table next to them, as if in warning. Lie watched out of the corner of his eye in horror as whatever was being fired out this weapon absolutely disintegrated the impact areas in the surface of the table. That settled it, this wasn't Dust-based ammunition.

Then, something equally horrific happen, which was Nora responding to this situation exactly as one should expect Nora would. "The Queen of the Castle is coming for You!" She yelled in her normal, happy-go-lucky, sing-song voice. Nora began to retrieve her weapon but Lie could tell that she would be too slow, and saw the barrel of the metal-face's weapon moving to zero-in on her. Without another thought, lie pushed himself sideways into Nora, taking her to the ground just as the bullets flew over their heads. Thankfully, Jaune and Pyrrha dropped as well.

"What in all Grimm is going on?" Pyrrha said, crouched down and spider-like in stance. Jaune laid on his stomach behind her, hands over head.

Lie rolled off of Nora and into the prone position. "I don't know," he said, "but I don't think he's using dust based ammunition."

"What? How could that be?" Pyrrha asked, as several more bullets flew over their heads.

"I have no idea," Lie said, "but I have this feeling like our Aura's might not be able to stand up to it." More shots splintered the table in front of them, and they covered their faces to protect themselve from the flying shards of wood.

Jaune raised his head long enough to shout "I hate tuesdays!"

…

Cobin vaulted over the counter at the end of the cafeteria and into the kitchen space. He had half a mind to just make a break for it and see if there was an exit out the back, but that would mean turning his rear end toward a heavily armed enemy with no one to cover his retreat. He didn't like that idea. So he dropped the magazine from his weapon and loaded another from his chest rig. When he popped up again from behind the counter, he was just in time to see the four girls from before come in the main entrance, following his path. He turned his weapon toward them and fired two more controlled pairs just over their heads, causing them to drop down out of sight.

He kept thinking about Leavenworth, or at least the ugly trial that would result if he accidently killed an unlawful child combatant. It was something he didn't want to experience and committed to the idea that he would make every effort to get out of this situation without killing anyone. But he needed to buy time. He reached for his chest rig where two white smoke grenades hung. He prepped them and tossed them over the the top of the counter just in time for a hail of gunfire to erupt from inside the main room of the cafeteria. As rounds of various sizes whizzed over his head the industrial kitchen equipment behind him was shredded and destroyed. These kids were packing reall weapons, very serious gear. The firing lightened as the smoke grenades created a screen separating him from his attackers. _Okay,_ he thought, _now I can sneak out the back of this kitchen._ And that plan might have gone well too, if the smallest girl from the group in the plaza didn't burst through the door separating the kitchen from the main hall, bearing the image of Death, Himself.

"Ruby, no!" a voice shouted from the other side of the smoke screen just as this scythe-wielding devil child came at Cobin with speed that he didn't believe was humanly possible. In slow motion Cobin saw the girl wind up and prepare to slice him with the unbelievable weapon. He reacted, stepping too far inside of the swing for the blade to catch him, and as the scythe came around and the girl came at him, he simply put his hand up, leaned in, and braced for impact. When the girl's forehead connected with his palm the force with which she was moving sent an awful vibration up Cobin's entire musculoskeletal system, but it worked, and she released her grip on her weapon and her legs flew up in front of her, acting as a pendulum as they attempted to continue the path that Cobin's palm prevented her head from moving down. So almost directly beneath him, she fell straight onto her back. Cobin drew his handgun from its drop holster and aimed it down, straight toward the child's head. There was this moment of silence, absolute pause as Cobin's brain regained control of his muscles and he realized consciously that yes, this was still a child. Her eyes said she was.

Two more bullets flew straight past Cobin's head, and without another thought he turned and sprinted toward the back of the kitchen. He burst through the back door only to find himself in a long carpeted hallway lined with offices. There was a large window at the end and Cobin made a break for it, sprinting all the way. He heard shouting and gunfire close behind him and out of his peripheral vision he could see rounds tearing apart the walls around him, chasing him down the corridor. He was close -so close- maybe less than fifteen feet away from the window when there was a blast. Cobin could tell it had to be excessively loud because the microphones that fed sound from the outside world into his pro-mask muted it, and all that he heard was a dull thudding noise. But he felt it, the blast picked him up off of his feet and shot him through the window like a bat out of hell, partially engulfed in flames.

He blacked out before he hit the ground but the adrenaline in his system only allowed it to last for several seconds. When he awoke he was laying on the ground, on his stomach. There were bits of glass and wood and burning things around him. The visor feeding him the live reel of his environment was fuzzy and kept cutting in and out, the cameras on the outside of the promask were probably failing. He reached under his chin and hit the emergency release, opening the mask's air tight seal and allowing him to pull it all the way off his face. As he did he gasped, taking his first breath of unfiltered air in this unfamiliar place. His own vision had gone fuzzy from the blast, he could barely see ten feet in front of him. He knew he had to keep moving, so he crawled, one hand in front of the other, dragging his body across the ground. He made it maybe ten feet before something else came in swift contact with the back of his head, and all the lights went back out.

…

The eight students erupted from the destroyed window and onto the ground, ready to finish off whatever that metal-faced thing was, only to stare in shock at the sight of their own Professor Goodwitch standing calmly over the immobilized form of the intruder. She was staring back at them, as if waiting impatiently. "Well," She began, "which one of you is going to explain this?" The two full teams of students ran to their professor, but kept their distance from the form lying on the ground.

"It tried to kill us!" Yang said.

Goodwitch raised an eyebrow " _It_?" she asked, prompting an explanation.

"Yeah, it's a robot or something, isn't it?" Jaune asked.

The professor took on a facial expression of genuine disappointment. "Unlikely, considering this vast amount of skin and flesh," she said she pushed the metal-face over onto it's back with her shoe, revealing that the metal face was not, in fact, a metal face. They huddled around him, staring at the unconscious expression of a man. He seemed very sharp around the edges, and had a bit of light facial hair partially obscuring how he might truly look.

"Who is he?" Blake asked.

Goodwitch put her face in her palm. "Well, that's the question of the day, isn't it students?"

They all stood back up and looked at their teacher. Yang, out of all of them, looked particularly pissed. "He did just try to kill us."

The well-weathered huntress was unamused. "So? Did you die?"

"Well no, but…"

"That's what I thought. I'll review the security camera footage. All of you should remain on standby for debriefing by Professor Ozpin, or The _Good General._ " She said with a rather sarcastic twist.

A medical transport touched down near them, and two of the school paramedics jumped out with a gurney and ran to where the unknown man laid on the ground in front of the students and their teacher. The student's watched in silence as the medics rolled him onto the gurney and prepped him for transport to the academy hospital. As they worked, Goodwitch bent down and picked the man's face mask off the ground, she stared at it for a minute, examining the false-face that had so frightened her students. It definitely looked more like armor than something used to identify affiliation, like the Grimm masks worn by the White Fang. She would have the weapons techs tear it apart and see what they could find.

"Alright," she said as they watched the medics load the man into the aircraft and take off, "All of you have the rest of the day off if you so choose. Go back to your rooms and rest."

There were no more words, the two teams moved as one confused, exhausted mass toward the main dormitory. All except for Ruby, who remained still next to the Professor.

"Is there something you want, Ruby?" Goodwitch asked without turning her gaze on the girl.

"Umm, uh…" Ruby started, always her awkward self, "I just don't know if he was really trying to… you know, kill us."

"Oh?" Goodwitch asked, curious.

"Yeah… it's just. He could have, like he really probably could have killed all of us. Or at least me. And well, he didn't. But he had lots of opportunities."

Goodwitch nodded. "Run along and catch up to your classmates, Ruby, get some rest." The girl nodded, and her teacher watched as she ran to catch up with her friends. "After all," Goodwitch said, no one else in ear shot, "It's only tuesday."

…

 ***HMMWV- The actual acronym for the widely used military vehicle commonly pronounced "Humvee."**

 ***Leavenworth- the United States' Military's maximum security prison for U.S. armed forces service members who have committed war crimes. Like Git-mo for soldiers. Located in Kansas.**

 **I'm really quite amazed how well this story has be received after only the that short introductory chapter. Thank you all for your reviews, follows, and favorites. If you have any questions regarding the story or any of the military jargon used, feel free to message me or leave a review.**

 **Despite my attempt to accurately portray a U.S. Army Soldier, I do understand that the fight scene was horribly unrealistic. I hope you're okay with that.**

 **Thank you for reading, and be on the lookout for more.**

 **-Wahs.**


	3. Solipsism

Professor Goodwitch waved her scroll in front of the scanner. It took a couple passes but finally the large metal door beeped and slid open, allowing her passage into the Beacon Armory. On the other side of the door was a hallway, lined with offices, labs, and rooms filled with weapon-smithing tools. Beacon was very proud of this facility, a complete workshop that could be used by students if they wanted, but well-manned by only the best weapons smiths and technicians in Vale. In addition to being a place where students could forge, design, and repair their own weapon systems, the facility also acted as the most well-staffed and well-equipped weapons development and testing lab in all of the four kingdoms. It was here that breakthroughs were made in the war against the Creatures of Grimm.

The entire facility was overseen and run by a Doctor Maxwell Fletcher, a short and stout little man that absolutely did not care what your family name meant, what your title was, or how much power you had, because you were in his facility and you were damn well going to pay him the respect afforded only to kings. To most of his staff and visitors he was known strictly as "Doctor Fletcher," but Goodwitch was one of the few who had earned his respect enough to refer to him by something less formal.

"Max?" Goodwitch said as she peered into Fletcher's office from the open doorway. She could see the man's bald head behind his desk, but he was turned away from her, probably absorbed in something he was watching on his scroll.

Fletcher instantly recognised the voice and spun around in his office chair with a smile on his face. "Glynda! It's great to see you." He said, standing up from his seat, "How're you doing?"

"Busy, as always," Goodwitch said, returning his smile, "But it's hard to complain."

"Ah! That's what I like to hear!" Fletcher said. As the little man moved around to the front of his desk, it was difficult not to notice how his lab coat dragged on the ground behind him. "So, what can I help you with today?"

"I had some toys sent over for you to play with later yesterday, and was wondering if you had gotten the chance to examine them yet."

Fletcher's smile grew bigger. "Oh, but of course! Here, follow me." Fletcher walked past Goodwitch, leading her out of the office and back into the hallway, toward one of the main labs. "You know," Fletcher said, "doing all of this managerial work I barely ever get to get my hands dirty personally anymore, so whenever you send me one of these special projects it makes my whole week."

"Glad to hear it." Goodwitch said.

"So how's our little intruder doing, anyway?" Fletcher said, taking a sharp right turn down another long hallway.

"He's still unconscious, but in stable condition. It's looking like he'll be hospitalized for another day or two as something is disrupting his Aura and he's not healing as fast as he should be." At this point, Goodwitch and several of the other higher most staff already knew that this was not the case, and that this intruder didn't really have an Aura at all. But that tidbit of information was being given out on a need-to-know basis only, and Goodwitch decided that Fletcher didn't need to know.

"Good, good. Sounds like your students roughed him up enough to prevent him from getting any ideas when he does wake up." Fletcher said as they finally turned into the main lab. They were the only ones there, and after entering Fletcher turned and entered his personal password into the keypad, closing the door, and locking it completely to anyone but himself. Goodwitch waited patiently as he closed the shades, as well.

"So what did you find out?" Goodwitch said as Fletcher returned to the main worktable, where the mask that the intruder had been wearing sat, connected to the computer by various wires and cables.

"We'll start with this," Fletcher said, picking up the mask and turning to face Goodwitch with it, "This isn't your average facial armor. It's meant to act as a complete filter for the wearer to the outside world. Cameras on the outside feed into a visor in front of the wearer's eyes, and have modes for night vision, infrared, and range finding among other things. Microphones on the inside pick up and project his voice when he speaks, and microphones on the outside pick up sound outside the mask and send it straight into his ears, it even has the capability to block or deaden sounds that are dangerously loud. Finally, a hyper-compact filter provides him with clean air, and can block both biological and chemical agents. The outer surface is blast proof and the mask can make an airtight seal when used in conjunction with the wearer's helmet."

Goodwitch nodded, and a frown of worry could be seen on her face. "That all sounds very advanced," she said.

Fletcher shrugged. "To be honest, all of the technology here is stuff that's well used and tested by our own soldiers, or those of one of the other three nations. The only thing remarkable about it is that it's all fitted into this one unit, a research and development project that undoubtedly costed lots of money," Fletcher placed the mask back down on the table. "Honestly, the only thing that this really indicates to me is that he wasn't a normal soldier."

"What do you mean?"

Fletcher thought for a moment, trying to phrase his response appropriately. "It's just like, he had to be special in some way. This isn't the kind of equipment you would supply to your average, rifle-toting infantryman. In order to justify this level of gear he would have to be a soldier within a smaller community of more skilled and advanced warriors."

Goodwitch processed this for a moment. "Like a Huntsman or a Huntress…" she said, staring at the floor, deep in thought.

Fletcher shrugged again. "That's not for me to speculate on." Suddenly, Fletcher's face dropped and his expression became much darker. "Follow me, there's one more thing I have to show you." he said.

Goodwitch followed him behind the main workbench toward the back of the lab. Fletcher led her to a smaller table, where the intruder's two weapons laid. It was obvious that they were firearms, one rifle and one pistol, that much she could be sure of, but they were not of a design that she had ever seen before. The black metal and synthetic that shined in the bright light of the lab gave off a sense of threat like no weapon she had ever encountered.

Fletcher picked up the rifle, holding it up for Goodwitch to see. "These are like nothing I've ever seen before in my life." He said.

"How so?"

"Like with most other things, it's what on the inside that counts," Fletcher said, putting the rifle back down on the table. "The ammunition they fire is not Dust-based. It's something else."

"What? How could that be?" Goodwich said, mildly startled by this information.

"That I can't say," Fletcher said, shaking his head, "while the general design and construction is similar to any other, the compounds used to make the rounds are completely foreign to me. While the bullets we would fire from our weapons are typically a concentrated dust compound propelled by a dust-based powder, these projectiles are made up a high-density metal, and the potential energy contained in the powder used to propel them is a great deal higher per-unit volume than your average dust-based stuff, and it's a lot more stable."

Goodwitch was intrigued, but really wanted Fletcher to just get to the point. "Okay, so what does that all mean?" She asked.

"Well, the problem with dust-based ammunition has always been that Dust itself is still a very unstable compound, despite how well we have mastered it over the centuries. Because you don't want a Dust-based projectile to become reactive before it hits its target, or for the Dust-based propellent to damage your weapon, there's always been an extreme restriction on the power and velocity that our ammunition can have behind it. This," Fletcher said, pointing at the rifle on the table, "defeats that completely."

Goodwitch was doubtful. "How much more powerful could it really be?"

Fletcher looked to the side and at the ground, visibly troubled. "Glynda…" he started, "these weapons are dangerous. Really dangerous. If you're fast, and I mean really, _really_ fast, maybe you could block it or deflect it like can be done with Dust-based rounds. But if you took a direct hit…" Fletcher paused, unsure of how to word his thoughts, "it would be like your Aura wasn't there at all. These bullets would cut right through it, and I don't want to think about what they would do once they got to your flesh itself."

Goodwitch nodded. "And have you tested them on any targets meant to replicate flesh?"

Fletcher looked back up, meeting Goodwitch's gaze. "No," he said, "and frankly, I don't want to."

"Max…"

"No, Glynda. You know better than anyone that Ozpin hired me not only because of my extensive knowledge and experience with weaponry, but also because I always put what I believe is morally and ethically right over an advance in technology. And I'm telling you right now, you don't want these weapons in our world. If there is an evil beyond Grimm I have seen it and I refuse to take any action besides destroying these things completely."

"That's drastic, Max," Goodwitch said, crossing her arms, "and it's not up to you."

Fletcher looked away again, visibly irritated. "Alright," he said, "but don't say I didn't warn you.

…

The eight students that made up teams JNPR and RWBY stood silently together in the elevator as they ascended to Professor Ozpin's office. They had all been summoned simultaneously near the end of their lunch break. They had sat together, like always, but there was little speaking and even less eating between them. The events of the previous day were all too fresh in their minds for them to feel safe in the dining hall again. The elevator ride to the Professor's office seemed to be taking longer than normal.

"Alright, so lets get our stories straight," Yang said, breaking the silence, "gotta make sure we're all on the same page with what happened yesterday."

"What's the purpose in that?" Lie said, "We've done nothing wrong, if we all tell the truth our stories will align anyway."

Yang whipped around and glared at Lie. "He tried to kill us," she said, "he _almost_ killed Ruby. I have to know we all understand that."

Blake stepped forward now "Yang, we're all just as upset as you are," she said, "but now is not the time to allow our emotions to drive our actions and words, certainly not in front of Ozpin."

"I agree," Pyrrha said, "Ozpin puts a lot of trust in us, lets not put that in jeopardy because we're angry. All we have to do is say exactly what we saw, nothing more and nothing less."

Yang was about to absolutely boil over, and that would not end well, it never ended well and certainly not in such a confined space like an elevator. If seething was a physical act than Yang embodied it in this moment. But before she could speak again, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Yang turned her head to see none other than her little sister reaching up to comfort her.

"It's alright, Yang," Ruby said, "lets just get through this as quickly as possible and get back to class."

It took Yang a moment, but she closed her eyes, breathed out deeply, and let her rage go. "Okay." She said.

When the door of the elevator opened, releasing the students into the Professor's monumental office space, the first thing they all noticed was the figure of General Ironwood standing tall, just a bit to the left of where Ozpin sat in his normal spot at his desk. They approached with caution. None of them had reason to dislike Ironwood, or distrust him, but there was just something about his presence that was unsettling. The military and the Huntsman academies were two very, very different cultures, and the students just didn't jive with the energy that Ironwood seemed to give off.

As they got close to the desk, Ozpin spoke, addressing their silent concern. "General Ironwood will be sitting in on our little chat today. As it's becoming increasingly obvious that this event is somehow connected to the military, he may be able to shed some light on some of it."

"I've seen all the security footage," Ironwood said, "I've made my own evaluations but I want to know what you all think."

In this moment the entire group found themselves lost for words. There was awkward silence as a couple people grumbled or turned their gaze to avoid making eye contact like school kids who didn't want to get called in class.

"To be honest," Pyrrha said, finally, "I don't know how much help we can be. There were plenty of other students around for most of the events, and it all happened so fast. It was just another fight."

"You all were the only ones to face him directly," Ozpin said, "and we all know it wasn't just another fight, I know my students, and they wouldn't be so shaken after any old stroll through a battle."

"It was just very strange," Lie said, "It was like he had a lot of opportunities to really go for our throats that he didn't take, and spent most of the time running. Ruby and her team pushed him into the cafeteria and then all of us together pushed him out of it again. He wasn't fighting offensively."

"Did he appear to try and warn you?" Ironwood said.

"Hey now!" Yang said, feeling that anger build up again, "we can't just dismiss the actions of whoever this guy is. He put us all in real danger!"

"He probably felt like he was in danger, too." Ironwood said.

That gave all the students pause. "Meaning?" Yang said.

"Look, I know that the idea of the military doesn't sit particularly well with all of you," Ironwood said, "but I've been doing this a long time, all the way from being on the ground with other men and women in arms. I've developed a lot of the strategies and procedures that my soldiers now use in this current environment of terrorists that melt back into the population after they've set off their bomb or robbed a Dust store. When I watched the security footage, I saw nearly identical procedures being used by this intruder of yours."

"Please elaborate, General," Weiss said, speaking up.

Ironwood cleared his throat. "Well, you see, when you're fighting people that aren't in uniform, just regular people with guns and hope, you have to be very, _very_ careful about where to put your shots. Our soldiers have an entire set of things they have to do and circumstances they have to confirm before using lethal force on a possible enemy. You have to be sure that the person you're pointing your gun at wants to kill you, because if you kill the wrong person, nobody wins. If one of my soldiers was unexpectedly dropped into a situation like this, surrounded by people he didn't know, all heavily armed, in an environment he was unfamiliar with he would behave in much the same way."

Weiss was unamused. "With all do respect to you and your men, General, do you really believe one of your regulars could almost take down two teams of Huntsmen and Huntresses?"

"-In training." Ozpin added, sipping his tea.

"No, I don't." Ironwood said, looking directly at Weiss and addressing her with a much more stern tone, "It was not one of my soldiers, and in fact, I don't think that it was a soldier from any of the other kingdoms either."

"How can you be so sure?" Jaune said, "I mean, the dude sort of had military level equipment and stuff."

Ironwood shook his head. "We simply don't train soldiers to that level of skill. Nobody does. Every year there's a large meeting involving myself and several other commanders of Vale's military forces, as well as the head council members, where we discuss budgets for the military. And every year, there's always some Colonel or something that wants a bit of money set aside to train a smaller, elite group of fighters to handle more sensitive operations, and every year I shoot that down because I firmly believe that such things should be left to Huntsman and Huntresses, and all the other kingdoms feel the same way. We don't have the facilities, expertise, or technology required to train and equip a soldier of that magnitude."

"So you're saying he's a Huntsman." All eyes turned on Ruby as she spoke, and as she felt the pressure of all the eyes watching her she began to stutter. "Or, um, something like that…"

"Possibly," Ozpin said, "or more likely, the military equivalent of a Huntsman. But not from here, or anywhere that we know of."

"So who is he?" Yang said, and the room went quiet again.

"We don't know," Ozpin said, "and we won't know until he wakes up."

…

When Cobin awoke in the hospital bed, even his eyelids seemed to strain from soreness and he groaned as he slowly opened them, exposing his pupils to the bright light hanging over him. Everything hurt, but he didn't like this exposed feeling of laying belly-up on his back, so bearing the discomfort he rocked himself into a seating position, his body screaming at him all the way up. As he slowly looked around the small room he observed nothing out of the ordinary. He had an IV leading into the vein on his right arm, there was a curtain half-surrounding the bed blocking his view of the entrance, and a couple of empty chairs rested in the corner. Cobin shook his head and rubbed his eyes, thinking hard and trying to remember what had happened. The EID came to mind first, he remembered very vividly the explosion and the subsequent tumble-dryer of pain. Yeah, that was it. He must have been pulled from the wreckage of the HMMWV and CASEVAC'd to a hospital somewhere. Then there was this really strange dream…

Cobin heard the door click and his head snapped around to observe whatever figure might come around the other side of the curtain. When Cobin saw him, just the man's appearance alone confirmed Cobin's worst fear; everything from the crazy greying hair, to the clothes, to those black-button-eyed glasses. "Oh, God." Cobin said, "It's not over yet, is it?"

"I'm afraid not," The man said, standing at the foot of Cobin's bed. "My name is Professor Ozpin, I am the headmaster of Beacon Academy. Who are you?"

Cobin nodded. "Alright," he said, "my full name is Rockland Marshal Cobin, I hold the rank of Sergeant First Class in the United States Army, I was born on the eighth of March, nineteen-ninety-two, and you can retrieve my service number from my Geneva Conventions Identification Card. I have now provided you with all of the information that I am required to under the Geneva Conventions and international law, and I will be answering no more questions." Cobin said this respectfully, but with confidence, looking Ozpin in the eyes as he spoke.

Ozpin sighed, and turned his back to Cobin as he went to retrieve one of the chairs from the corner of the room. Ozpin pulled the chair next to the hospital bed where Cobin sat, and took a seat himself. "Sergeant Cobin, I'm sorry to be the one to inform you of this, but you are a very, very long ways away from home."

Cobin was unphased. "I was already half-way around the world, it doesn't get much further than that. Regardless, there's nowhere on earth that can't be reached by the International Red Cross, and I've given you all the information necessary for you to contact my family and superiors through them."

Just then, the door clicked again, and around the corner came a nurse holding a green hospital tray. The nurse walked swiftly to the side of the bed where Ozpin sat and lowered it, offering two cups of tea. "Ah yes," Ozpin said, taking both off of the tray, "I've had them brew some for you too, if you're interested." Cobin didn't hear the question at first, because he was still too busy staring at the wolf-like ears seeming to protrude from the nurse's skull. _Drugs._ He thought. _They have definitely given me drugs._ "Sergeant?" Ozpin said, trying to get the dazed and confused soldier's attention.

"Oh um, tea, yes." Cobin said, reaching for the cup that Ozpin was extending toward him. Cobin held the cup of warm liquid in his hands but didn't bring it to his mouth, he wasn't so inept as to just drink whatever was handed to him in a situation where he was quite possibly a POW detainee being interrogated by a foreign agent.

"As I was saying, Sergeant…" Ozpin continued in between sips, "We believe you're much further away from home than you could probably think possible. Sergeant, what military organization did you say you were affiliated with again?"

Cobin raised an eyebrow, that wasn't one he was expecting. "The U.S. Army." He said.

"What do you mean by 'U.S.'?"

Cobin knew that someone in the room was definitely losing their shit and it could very well be him. "The United States," He said, staring at Ozpin, "The United States Army."

"Yes, but the United States of what?"

 _What in the actual fuck._ "The United States of America," Cobin said, "It's kind of a big deal."

"Right." Ozpin said, brushing off that last comment. "Sergeant, are you familiar with the World of Remnant?"

 _Jesus, what kind of interrogation is this,_ Cobin thought. "The word 'remnant?' I think it means 'something that remains, or is left behind,' but I'm not exactly a walking dictionary."

"No." Ozpin said, shaking his head. "The _World Of_ Remnant." When Cobin rebuttled with nothing but a blank stare, Ozpin added: "The planet that you're on right now, as we speak."

"The planet that I'm on?"

"Yes."

"But I'm on Earth."

"No you're not."

Cobin was silent for just a second before the words exploded out of him. "What the fuck! How is that even possible? It's not, it's bullshit."

"Sergeant!" Ozpin said, putting on his teacher-voice. "While I'm sure you are distressed and it is an unbelievable situation, rest assured that it's the truth. I don't know how you got here, but I'm trying to figure it out and I can't do it without your help."

 _This has to be some highly advanced interrogation technique._ Cobin thought.

"Now, you're probably thinking that this is some high-level interrogation strategy, but I can assure you that it serves neither me, nor my school to deceive you." Ozpin said, placing his half-empty cup of tea on the side table. "I just want to know what happened."

Cobin was totally lost, just trying to put the awful, jagged puzzle pieces of this situation together in his head. He thought about that strange dream… or what he thought was a strange dream, for a long moment. "This is a school?" He finally asked.

"Yes," Ozpin replied.

"So those kids that attacked me, they were your students?"

"Yes."

"One hell of a school you're running here, professor." Cobin said, finally giving in to the insanity and taking a sip of his own tea.

"Regardless of the actions of my students and how they are to be judged, the situation at hand dictates that we have a different conversation; one where you tell me everything that you remember about how you got here." Ozpin stated, a firmness to his voice.

Cobin turned his gaze toward the ceiling as he sipped his tea. He focused with all of his energy on this ridiculous situation and how he could have possibly wound up in it. "I was driving the lead truck in a convoy," he began, "I'm a soldier, we were at war, you probably know how it goes. So We're driving down this road in the middle of the desert, on mission, and we stop to investigate something suspicious a bit down the road. When we do, a bomb that was buried in the road went off right behind my truck. I blacked out, and when I woke up I was surrounded by teenagers with guns. I'm sure you can understand why I may have been a bit on-edge."

Ozpin nodded, "So that's it, you got blown up in your world and woke up in mine?"

"Yeah, that's about it."

"So, what's your evaluation of that situation?"

There was a long pause before Cobin answered, and when he did, all he said was: "Professor, have you ever heard the phrase 'If a tree falls in the woods, and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound'?"

"No," Ozpin said, "I don't believe I have."

"It's just a bit of cheap, dime-store philosophy that's meant to reference the concept of _Solipsism,_ which states that the only thing that can truly be known to exist is the self. Tracking?"

"Go on."

"The idea of Solipsism basically states that because all reality is perception, and it's arguable as to whether or not anything exists at all in the absence of a consciousness to observe it, I have no real way proving that you actually exist, that any of this exists. The consciousness, the self that is me is observing and processing you and your world, but I will never be able to completely prove that you're not an illusion of some kind. In addition, the concept of solipsism brings about the possibility that there's only one consciousness, mine, which is generating this entire reality independent of anything else in my environment, like being a lonely god in a universe you have no control over, or being in a dream you can't wake up from."

"So what are you getting at, Sergeant?" Ozpin asked, more interested in this than he had been in anything, in a long time.

"Well, because I very much doubt the possibility that a roadside bomb could open a portal to another dimension, the logical part of me assumes that I'm now in an induced coma and dreaming, or the even more likely possibility that my body has died, and this is the reality my mind has chosen to experience in the ten-to-twelve minutes I have before my brain dies, too. But because the perception of time is altered in a dream-space, my time here could feel like an eternity."

"So you believe that you're dreaming, and none of this is real?"

"No, that's just what the logic says. I don't know what I believe. It certainly doesn't feel like a dream."

"So what will you do now, Sergeant?"

Cobin shrugged. "Well, I really can't actually prove that this reality is any more or less real than the one I existed in before, so I guess I'll just make my best effort to exist here now." He said.

Ozpin was taken aback. "You know, Sergeant, I never would have guessed a response like that would come…"

"From a gun-toting killer that broke two of your guards and almost put a lot of holes in your students?"

"Yes, that." Ozpin said.

"Yeah, well, I've got a few tricks up my sleeve," Cobin said, "but you probably won't get to see them, my guess is that I get to spend the remainder of my time in this reality behind bars somewhere."

Ozpin smiled at the sergeant. "Or maybe not." He said.


	4. Coffee

**Hello, I hope everyone is enjoying the story thus far. A reader contacted me and informed me that I've made some pretty serious violations of standing RWBY cannon, and there's an extent to which this inevitable because it's fan fiction, but I don't want to mess with the rules that make the RWBY-verse the RWBY-verse, and I apologize if I have done so. This story is basically coming just straight from my brain in a flow-of-consciousness sort of way, and I'm not taking the time to constantly reference the RWBY wiki as I write it.**

 **At this point in writing, I'm not going to go back and completely rewrite chapters or take them down, but if you notice something off or a serious transgression I've made against the cannon, feel free to inform me and I'll do my very best to correct it in later chapters.**

 **Thank you for reading, and enjoy.**

 **-Wahs.**

...

Cobin was unsure of what awaited him, but he saw little reason to be fearful of it after examining how his situation had been at the hospital. His room was on the second story and had a window that was always open during the daytime, it would be a painful drop but not a fatal or crippling one, an obvious path of escape that was entirely unprotected. The door to his room remained unlocked at all times and no guards were posted outside of his room, he knew because he had checked. There seemed to be absolutely no attempt to contain him, and this was simultaneously reassuring and alarming. So he sat up in his hospital bed on his fourth day in this strange place and waited silently for word of what would happen next.

It was sometime in the very early monring when the nurse with the wolf ears returned to the room carrying a pile of folded clothes and a backpack. "Here are your clothes and your things," she said, setting them down on the chair nearest to the bed, "Go ahead and take your time getting dressed, there will be a car here to pick you up in about thirty minutes."

"Thank you," he said.

She smiled at him, "You're welcome Mister Cobin. Come and see me at the desk down the hall when you're ready to sign out." and with that she turned and left, leaving the sergeant to his silence again.

After a minute, he slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, feeling his body creaking and groaning as he did. His introduction to this world had been a bit more eventful than his systems would have liked. He walked over to the pile of clothes and grabbed his undershirt off the top of it, he could tell as soon as he felt the fabric that they had washed it for him. He got dressed slowly, leaving only his blouse left folded on the chair. His armor, weapons, ammunition, and other equipment was, naturally, nowhere to be found.

Next he checked the backpack, which was mostly empty save for his wallet and his MP3 Player. After going through his wallet and ensuring that everything was in its proper place, he grabbed the small electronic device and inspected it, seeing if there was any physical evidence of tampering. For exactly this reason Cobin took extra caution with anything he stored on the little computer, as any piece of information, even unclassified, could be useful in the wrong hands, so there weren't even any pictures of him or anyone he knew on it. It came to life immediately when he pressed the power button, and after a few quick scrolls through its screen he found no evidence of file corruption, so if they did tamper with it, it was probably very mild.

Cobin threw the MP3, his wallet, and his blouse back into the backpack and walked out of the room into the hallway of the hospital, which looked just as unremarkable as his room, save for the wolf-eared nurse at the desk down near the end of the hall. When he approached the desk, she looked up and smiled at him. Something about the smile seemed real, genuine. There was no vibe of a threat at all.

"Here, please print and sign on the bottom of this release form," she said, handing him a clipboard from where she sat on the other side of the desk.

"No problem." he said, taking it. He filled it out quickly and handed it back over the counter.

The nurse took a second to examine it, making sure all the proper fields were filled in. "Looks good, Mister Cobin," she said, looking back up at him, "If you go down the stairs and take a left the main lobby and entrance will be right there. Your driver will be picking you up right outside the door."

He nodded, "Thank you very much," he said, turning to walk away.

"Have a great day, sir!" the nurse called after him as he disappeared down the stairs.

When he got outside, the sun was just barely coming up over the horizon, sending rays of light slowly creeping across the land in front of him. Cobin took a moment to take it in, and thought about how normal this supposedly alien world seemed. Taken only as an image, where he stood now did not contrast at all with any similar scene on earth, but there was something about the air of this place. The energy was different.

A black car with starkly tinted windows pulled up in front of him and came to a stop. The driver, a young man in what resembled a bell-hop uniform got out but left it running, and walked around to the side of the car where Cobin stood. As he did this, he looked at the foreigner and said "Cobin?"

"Yeah."

"Good, I'll be your driver today." The kid said, opening the back passenger door and holding it for him.

"Pleasure to meet you," Cobin said as he stepped into the car. He looked around, seeing that it was a limousine style vehicle that kept the passenger compartment separated from the driver, but the driver was keeping his small window connecting the two open.

The young man got back into the driver's seat and belted in. "And we're off," he said as he put his foot on the gas. "So, Rockland Cobin huh?" he asked.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Sounds like a Vacuo name, is that where you're from?" The driver said, as he cruised down the road away from the hospital.

"Um… not quite." Cobin said, not entirely sure how to respond. So Ozpin was keeping the details of his origin under wraps, or at least not being open with the information. "How much were you told about me?" he asked.

The young man shrugged. "I'm just your driver, man. I was told to come pick you up and take you to your new residence, that's what I know." he said, seemingly uninterested, "but judging by the fact I picked you up at the hospital I'm guessing that you didn't have a particularly pleasant arrival here."

Cobin laughed. "Yeah, you could say that again."

"There certainly has been a lot of commotion this week. But really that's not uncommon for this place. I haven't gotten caught up in anything yet, thank god."

"Are you a student?" Cobin asked, curious.

"God no!" the young man scoffed, "this is just an in between gig for me. But I like Ozpin, he's a good boss."

"That's good to hear." Cobin said.

The rest of the car ride was silent. Cobin didn't have a watch, and even if he did it would probably be useless, but the car ride seemed to take a while, almost twenty or thirty minutes. _If I was at the campus hospital and where I'm going is on campus as well, that must mean this place is pretty big._ He thought. As they got nearer to the destination and the car slowed, the environment that was displayed through the tinted windows became weirdly familiar to Cobin, then it hit him. _This is where I was when I woke up,_ he thought, looking out the window as they passed the main dining hall. Then he cringed a little bit as he remembered what happened shortly thereafter.

The car came to stop maybe 300 or so yards further down the road from the cafeteria, in front of a small rectangular building that was otherwise alone on it's stretch of street. "We're here," the driver said, turning off the car's engine and getting out.

Cobin got out himself, not waiting for the driver to open the door for him, and took a better look at the place. It had a couple small windows above head level on the side, probably meant to let some natural light in, but otherwise it was very plain and it looked to have only one entrance; a large garage door in the very front.

The young man that was his driver was around the back of the vehicle, fiddling with the trunk. "Hey, while I'm doing this, you want to go see if that door will open?" the young man said.

Cobin raised an eyebrow, but said "Sure," and walked up the short driveway to the large door. Spying two handles bolted to the door near the ground, he crouched and grabbed them, attempting to lift it. It was not a well-oiled contraption, and in Cobin's still rather injured state it was uncomfortable trying to force it, but after two or three hard tugs the door finally lifted, exposing the innards of the building.

"This is where I'm going to be… living?" Cobin said, staring into what appeared to be an abandoned auto shop, complete with one hydraulic rack, counters full of loose tools, and a thick coating of dust over everything. Having been deployed to some of the most inhospitable places on earth, he had certainly lived in worse conditions, but this wasn't what he was expecting.

"Yep," the driver said, walking past him into the shop. He was carrying a duffle bag that he threw up onto one of the old dusty counters before turning around to face Cobin again. "Well, come on in, make yourself at home. As you can see, it's been a long time since we've had a resident mechanic."

"Yeah, I can tell," Cobin said, staring up at the cobwebs that covered the ceiling. _Mechanic,_ he thought, _okay, I can play along with that._ He stepped inside the doorway and immediately tasted the stale air that had been trapped in the place for however long.

"Yeah, apparently there was a time when students here were allowed to keep personally owned vehicles, and they used the shop a lot. But that was long before my time, and under Ozpin the fleet of cars and trucks that the school itself owns has dwindled to almost nothing, and even then they barely get used. Ozpin offered to let the last guy keep his job regardless, but he quit, complaining of how little work there was to do." the young man laughed, "You got yourself a pretty cushy gig here, friend."

Cobin nodded, "I guess so."

The young man turned, pointing to the back of the shop, "The door on the right is the office space, there's a cot back there for you sleep on, the door on the left is the washroom." He said, before turning back around. He patted the duffle bag on the counter. "In here is two sets of linen for the cot, and one pillow. In addition, you're being provided with five sets of the same work pants and undershirts that are given to all of the guard forces and other non-academic staff here, as well as seven pairs of socks and one pair of boots. Now the rules say you have to wear this stuff at all times during the workday, but Ozpin is pretty loose about that."

"Gotcha," Cobin said, "There's something weirdly familiar about this, reminds me of my last job."

"Yeah, what'd you do?"

Cobin thought for a moment about the correct way to phrase this, "I was with the military." He said.

The guy nodded, "Oh yeah, did you like it?" he asked.

Cobin shrugged, "Well I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Ha! I guess so," the young man said, "Oh, and there's one more thing." he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, white rectangle and tossed it to Cobin. "That's your new scroll."

"Hmm?" Cobin said, examining it. It looked like a cell phone, but didn't didn't appear to have a screen or buttons of any kind.

"Your new scroll, Ozpin said you lost yours in transit and so he's providing you with this company one. It already has Ozpin and some of the higher-level staff saved on it, but feel free to add anyone you'd like. It comes pre-loaded with a map of the entire campus and will act as your meal card as well as your security pass to get into buildings."

"Security pass?"

"Yes, as of now you have a level-one clearance, meaning you can access public buildings, lower-level administrative offices, and academic buildings with restriction."

"Okay," Cobin said, "So where am I not allowed to go?" This, he figured, was much more important information.

The young man seemed to think for a minute, "Well, with a level one you're definitely not allowed into any ranges or anywhere that stores ammunition and weapons. Also, you can't go into the dormitories, not that you would ever have a need to. And I believe that while you're allowed in most of the academic buildings, the majority of the individual classrooms themselves would be off-limits, as well as all combat arenas."

"Ah, right. Combat arenas. Got it." Cobin said. This all just kept getting weirder.

"Oh, and I'm pretty sure if you attempt to access any of those places it will be automatically logged and reported to the guard forces."

"That's very good to know," Cobin said, looking down at the weird little device in his hand.

"Yeah, and guards are extra pissed right now after a couple of their people got totally manhandled earlier this week, they're probably looking for any reason to beat up on someone." The kid laughed.

"Right, haha." Cobin managed, not finding it particularly funny.

The kid nodded. "Well, that's all she wrote," he said, walking past Cobin and back out the door, "if I was you I'd leave this open and let this place air out a bit, don't know how long it's been since the last time it was used."

"Thanks, got it."

"No problem man, maybe I'll catch you in the staff cafeteria sometime."

 _The staff cafeteria, huh,_ Cobin thought as he heard the young man get into his car and drive away, _I hope that's on the map._ Just then, the little white thing in his hand erupted with a loud beeping noise, which startled Cobin. He looked down to see the little diamond shape in the center glowing yellow. Hesitantly, he moved his thumb over and pressed it. When he did, the two halves the scroll split apart, causing him to almost drop it. A holographic screen displayed between the two halves, and across it in big, bold letters was: " **1 NEW MESSAGE- LISTEN NOW?** " Once again with a modicum of hesitation, Cobin pressed the the little "Listen" Icon at the bottom of the screen, and instantly the thing began emitting the distinct voice of Professor Ozpin.

"Hello, Sergeant, I hope you're finding your new accommodations satisfactory, I'll be dropping by sometime later this morning to see how you're settling in. I gave your driver a lot of information to explain to you so I hope he got it all in and didn't forget anything. Until I see you next, goodbye."

When the message ended, Cobin pushed the two halves the scroll back together and slid it into his pocket. He stood silently for a minute, trying to get an idea of what his next course of action should be. He had just been given control over a facility, so if this had been the Army he would have definitely had to sign for anything and everything that was in the shop when he took over, which meant an extremely careful accountability of all material resources therein. But this wasn't the Army, and Cobin doubted they would make him sign for anything. Still, it was a good idea to have a grasp on everything that belonged to you. He would need to make a list, but first he wanted to explore his space a bit more.

He made his way past the lift to the back of the shop, where the two doors sat right next to one another. Neither had a door latch or a lock, and so they swung freely on their hinges. Cobin reached out and pushed the door on the left open first, revealing a short hallway that made up the washroom. The first section was lined with cabinets that hung over a washer and a dryer. Cobin stepped into the cramped space and began opening the cabinets, not really looking for anything but curious what might have been left behind. Most of them were empty, or had a bit of junk like empty snack boxes.

When he opened the final cabinet, there sat a small brown paper bag, it's shape and the way it was sealed at the top very distinct. If he had been on earth, it could only be one thing. "No way." Cobin said, reaching out and grabbing it. It was unopened, still air-tight sealed. He pulled the two halves of the paper bag apart at the top and instantly his nose was filled with an all so familiar aroma. _Coffee, yes this is definitely coffee. How in the hell is there coffee on a different goddamn planet?_ Cobin was puzzled, but honestly not as much as he was excited. There was coffee, so there was hope. Now he just needed to find the coffee maker. He looked frantically around the small room, until a shining piece of metal sitting on top of the cabinets caught his eye. "Ah ha! Got you!" he said, reaching up to grab the little machine. _This place won't be so bad after all,_ he thought.

While it was brewing he found that there were no cups to speak of in the place, so when it finished he simply grabbed the whole pot along with a wooden crate that had been in a corner in the back of the room. Out in what was now _his_ driveway he laid the crate on the ground and used it as a seat as he looked out onto this new world and sipped his coffee with the rhythm of the morning. People that he figured were students were up and about, walking down the street in front of him or down by the cafeteria. Thankfully though, none of them seemed particularly interested in him.

After a couple minutes of just quiet observation, he suddenly felt a presence beside him. "Good morning," he said, without looking.

"Good morning to you too, Sergeant." Professor Ozpin said, as he stood beside where Cobin sat on his crate, looking out into the street. "Everything go alright with the trip over here?"

"Yep, no accidents. I'm going to have to clean this place up, though, seems like it's been at least a few months before anyone has been in there."

"That's about right," Ozpin said. "But I figured it would suit you. You're not a registered citizen with any of the kingdoms -yet- so I can't have you wondering off, and we don't have a dormitory for staff."

"Hmm. I have no problem with it. It'll give me something to do while I process this."

"Yes, that's important at a time like this."

Cobin nodded, "You want some coffee?" he said, offering his pot to Ozpin.

"No thank you," Ozpin said.

The flow of the conversation stopped for a moment as a group of laughing first-years passed by close to them, caught up in whatever immature joke they were probably telling.

"So what kind of school do you run here, professor?" Cobin asked.

The question didn't exactly catch Ozpin off-guard, but it wasn't one he was expecting from this man. "This is Beacon academy, where aspiring Huntsman and Huntresses train to become the next defenders of our kingdom." he said.

"Defending from what?"

"The creatures of Grimm, and anyone who would do harm to our people."

"Grimm?"

Ozpin paused, trying to decided how in depth he really wanted to go right now. "I think that this is not the time for an advanced history lesson, but I'll provide you with some materials to educate yourself if you would be interested?"

"Very," Cobin said.

Ozpin nodded, "That's good to hear." he said. "So you've been watching my students all morning?"

Cobin shrugged, "For a while."

"Let me ask you this, Sergeant, what do you see?"

Cobin sipped his coffee. "Kids with guns." he said.

"Something wrong with that?"

"I've just never been the in the presence of such a large concentration of weaponized sexual frustration. This is a very different world than mine."

"And what do you mean by that?"

Cobin thought for a moment. "You see, where I come from the overwhelming notion is that children should be sheltered from all forms of violence at all costs. Everyone has this idea that if you can make it to adulthood without really being exposed to it first hand, you somehow have more of yourself when you get there. We have international laws that completely prohibit the use of child soldiers. That sort of violence, the kind you see in war, it's all consuming. It'll take over everything that you are, especially if you grow up in it. You see kids that only know violence, can only do violence, they can't exist in the everyday world."

Ozpin sighed, "In our world, being so protective is not a luxury we have ever been able to afford. Struggle and violence is simply a fact of life."

"So when do they start?"

"For most of them, their entire career in school has centered around getting here, their final step in becoming Huntsmen and Huntresses. From the first time they ever stepped into a classroom they've been training for combat. Some even before that."

"And when they graduate?"

"Then they'll be defenders of our world, keeping the darkness at our borders from consuming us."

"Until?"

Ozpin shook his head, "You have to understand, Sergeant, that being a Huntsman isn't a job, it's everything that you are. Some of them might come back as instructors at a school, or as advisors to a political offices. But most will just keep going, right until the end."

Cobin nodded, showing that he understood. "So they're addicted." he said.

"Hmm?"

"You have them hooked. Addicted to violence."

Ozpin frowned. "That sounds overly critical."

"No." Cobin said, "Addiction isn't always a bad thing. All addiction really is, is loving something so much you'd allow it to destroy you."

"I'd like to think that they're driven by their love for each other, and they're passion to make this a better world for the people they care about."

"And that may very well be one of their motivations, in addition. But I'm talking about _who they are,_ as people. It's in the way they stand, the way they walk, in their eyes. None of them could work the counter at the corner store, or be that kid that drove me from the hospital. Fighting is all they know." Cobin poured the rest of his stale coffee out in front of him, and let it stream down the driveway. "If I was you, I'd thank whatever god you worship that they all have hearts of gold to back it up."

Ozpin was silent for a moment, before saying quietly, "I do. Everyday." The professor then pulled out his scroll and opened it, and began tapping a few buttons as the holographic screen came to life.

"Need to get going?" Cobin asked, watching Ozpin slowly get absorbed into the thing.

"Not quite," Ozpin said, "I'm inviting a welcome party to come help you settle in."

"A welcome party? But I don't know anyone here." Ozpin simply looked at Cobin and smiled. As Cobin slowly realized what the professor had done, his face dropped. "Oh no." He said.

"Oh, yes." Professor Ozpin rebuttled. "I think it's high time you and a certain group of my students traded apologies for that violent outburst earlier this week."

Cobin face-palmed. "Help me out here, Professor, what's a good way to say 'Sorry I almost shot you and a bunch of your friends in the face'?"

"What, you never had to deal with diplomatic situations while you were at war?"

"Not really, normally when someone fucks up real bad, the money guys just come along and pay off whoever was wronged."

"That sounds like a horrid system."

"Well, it worked." Cobin said, mildly irritated.

"But it won't be an option for you, here," Ozpin said, smiling. "Also, I can't guarantee that there won't be some modicum of violence."

 _Oh God,_ Cobin thought. "And if there is? What do I do?"

"Well, considering how out-matched you were before when you had your weapons and armor," Ozpin said, now chuckling to himself, "my professional recommendation is that you _just eat it._ Like a man."

"That's… awesome…" Cobin said, the sarcasm rolling out of his mouth.

"It probably won't be that bad," Ozpin said, trying to reassure the sergeant. "Just sit back and try to enjoy it."

…

 **Lots of dialogue in this one, hope it didn't get too boring for anyone. Thanks for reading!**

 **-Wahs.**


	5. Seven

**Hey, thanks to everyone that's been pointing out errors! I'm going to try to set some time away this weekend to comb through everything I've written so far and fix any major errors. I have a bad tendency to think faster than I can type, and so I skip words or merge sentences together. Bad habit.**

 **I'm happy to answer any questions you have, go ahead and shoot me a PM or leave a review!**

 **Enjoy the story.**

 **-Wahs.**

...

The door to team RWBY's room was almost knocked off it's hinges as Yang kicked it open and stormed down the hallway, her teammates following close behind.

"This is gonna be so good." Ruby said.

Yang practically growled. "I'm going to punch him in the face."

"You're right, this is going to be good," Blake said.

As they rounded the corner at the end of the hall, they almost ran headlong into team JNPR coming the other way.

"Oh hey you guys!" Jaune said, "We were just coming to find you."

"Did you guys get this weird message from Ozpin?" Pyrrha asked.

"Oh yes," Yang said, a scowl on her face, "Yes we did." Then she simply pushed past them and continued down the hall.

Weiss smirked. "Yang's going to punch this guy in the face." she said.

"Hooray!" Nora said, throwing her hands up in the air and smiling, "Can we watch?" she asked excitedly, turning toward Lie.

Lie shrugged. "I don't see why not." he said.

"Yay! It'll be like a party!" Nora said.

The group of seven students all turned to follow Yang out of the building as she spearheaded her own little march for revenge. Ozpin had been a bit cryptic in his message, but had more or less outlined the important bits; the fact that their attacker was awake and where he could be found. The tone of the whole message was weirdly calm, like he planned this to be a friendly re-introduction. Except for the very end of the message which stated- _purely diplomatic approaches are appreciated but not expected. No weapons._

Pyrrha, the bastion of outspoken common sense, was a bit skeptical. "Doesn't this seem really weird to anyone else?" she said as they stepped out the door of their dormitory and headed in the general direction of the dining hall.

"Yeah, it's very weird." Lie said, "But it's also Ozpin, and I'd probably drink bleach if the man told me it would turn to water in my mouth. I think we should trust him and see what he's planning."

"Lie's right." Blake said. "There's no real explaining what happened earlier this week, but if anyone can bring something productive out of it, it would definitely be Ozpin."

Pyrrha nodded, "I guess I just figured that his tone about it would be more...serious. Less like a meet-and-greet and more along the lines of testifying at a trial."

"I like it better this way," Ruby said, in her normal cheery tone, "If it had been something like that, we may have never gotten the opportunity to figure out exactly what happened. Now we can just ask."

"Right, if he wants to talk." Weiss said.

"I'm going to make him talk." Yang said suddenly, wringing her hands as she walked.

Jaune gave one of his normal nervous chuckles, "Well, looks like it'll be a show regardless." he said.

…

"That them?" Cobin asked, looking down the street at a decently sized group of approaching students, led by one particularly angry looking blond. He remained on his crate, he wasn't going to get defensive so there was no reason to stand, he figured.

"Yes, that would be correct." Ozpin said.

Cobin silently prepared for whatever might happen next, resigning himself to the worst possible outcome. "Any final piece of advice?" he asked.

"Yes," Ozpin said, "remain calm, tighten your stomach, and lock your jaw."

"Wonderful."

When the group got the short driveway, the majority of the students remained near the bottom of it, keeping five or ten yards between them and him. But the blond continued onward, coming straight toward him up the asphalt. Cobin examined the way she walked, and her expression. It was all too familiar to him. _Yes..._ he thought, _yes, this woman is about to punch me in the face._

"Judges, ready your scorecards!" Ozpin said, directing these instructions to the group of students behind the blond.

The comment caught Cobin off guard. He raised an eyebrow and turned to look at Ozpin. "Huh?" He said, in the moment before it happened. When Cobin would try to make an analogy for the feeling later on, he would say that it was like sticking your face in the cylinder of a running car engine, and allowing the piston to explode up and hit you in the jaw. At the moment of impact his vision went white, his ears rang, and the force damn near knocked him off of his crate. He sat back up and shook his head, feeling the ripe pain blossom from where the punch had landed squarely on his cheek. Then he turned to the side, spitting a mixture of blood and saliva out onto the driveway. By human hands, it was probably the hardest he had ever been hit.

"Hmm. Eight." Lie said.

"I'd give it an eight and a half," said Nora.

"Definitely at least an eight," Blake said, "but the form was a little rough around the edges."

"I agree, eight." Weiss said.

"Definitely a ten!" Jaune said, prompting Pyrrha to lightly elbow him in the ribs. "Gah! I mean… nine?"

"Eight and a half," Pyrrha said.

Ruby laughed. "Pfffffft. You all are way too generous," she said. "Seven."

Yang whipped around and glared at her little sister. "Are you kidding me? Seven?" She said.

Ruby nodded, not allowing herself to be intimidated by her elder. "The hip rotation could have been a lot smoother." She said.

"Hey!" Cobin said, regaining his senses, and prompting Yang to turn and direct her glare back at him, "You get three freebies. That was one. Use your last two wisely."

"Is that three-per-person?" Nora asked excitedly.

Cobin shifted his head to look around Yang at the orange-haired girl who had pulled a rocket launcher on him. "No," he said.

"Explain yourself!" Yang practically screamed at him.

"Miss Xiao Long," Ozpin interjected, "in the future ensure that you demand information from someone _before_ you attempt to break their jaw. Makes them more liable to actually be able speak."

"Yeah!" Cobin said, prompting Yang to reverse-punch him in the stomach. Cobin made an "Oof!" noise before doubling over and clutching his gut. "That's… that's two…" he wheezed.

"Let's give Sergeant Cobin a minute to rest while _I_ attempt to explain the situation." Ozpin said, "Gather around, children. He won't bite. Will you?" All Cobin could do was groan in response. The rest of the students made their way up the short drive and semi-circled around Cobin and the Professor. They all looked at their headmaster, waiting patiently for some combination of words that could clear up this insanity. "First of all that let me just state that no one really understands the Sergeant's situation completely, not even himself. What I am about to tell you about what _is_ known is to stay between everyone present." A wave of nods rippled across the group of students, prompting Ozpin to continue. "The most important thing to know is that he is not from here."

"You mean, not from Vale?" Jaune asked.

"No," Ozpin said, "not from Remnant." and with that, an ocean of confused looks and open jaws erupted before Ozpin.

"How's that even possible?" Pyrrha asked.

"We don't know," Ozpin said, "but he is not registered as a citizen with any of the kingdoms, and all of his memories are from another world. But, most notable of all is the fact that he doesn't have an Aura."

"That just means it hasn't been activated yet!" Weiss said, defiant of the information that was being presented to her.

"We tried, many times." Ozpin said, "If he was born on our world, he would be the first in the history of our entire race, human and faunus, entirely incapable of generating an Aura." The students grew silent as it dawned on them that maybe this wasn't some god awful joke. Maybe it was real. "No one can remember exactly how he and his vehicle made it onto the plaza in front of the dining hall, and all of the security camera's footage for the plaza is corrupted for a period of three hours preceding the unfortunate spout of violence you all got involved in earlier this week."

"Hey! None of this is any excuse," Yang said, getting angry again, "lets not forget that regardless of where he came from, he got here and immediately _attacked us_!"

" _Alright_!" Cobin shouted, getting irritated. He stood, and glared back at Yang. "Before I get sent back to the hospital, allow me to give you a brief lesson in large scale _military strategy._ " His tone was sharp, he was done playing nice. "You see, where I come from there's this awful little thing called _counter insurgency._ It means you have to fight a war without being able to differentiate the innocent civilians from the guys who want to feed you to their dogs. They could be anybody; women, kids, old folks. Anyone and everyone may want to see your head on a post and you really don't know until someone takes a shot at you. I was in a _combat zone._ A bomb went off _underneath my ass._ " He pointed an accusing finger at Yang, "And when I woke up I was surrounded by _children_ with _guns_ and _grenade launchers._ So EXCUSE ME for being a little bit ON EDGE." He practically screamed at her.

Cobin and Yang and just looked at each other, locked in a competition of silent anger while everyone else just stared at them.

"You know," Jaune said, "that does make it a lot more understandable."

"What?!" Yang snapped, turning to look a Jaune.

"Thank you!" Cobin said, pointing at Jaune "High speed, low drag right there."

"I don't even know what that means…" Jaune muttered.

Yang turned her attention back to Cobin "Listen here you…"

"Yang, Stop!" Ruby said.

Yang looked toward her little sister, her agency suddenly gone. "But…"

"That's an order as your team leader," Ruby said, quick to bring down the hammer.

Yang scowled at Cobin one last time before stepping back and giving him some breathing room. Then, to his surprise, the smaller girl stepped to him, with the presence of someone much older, and larger than she was. She looked at him without anger, but in a way that demanded respect. It dawned on Cobin suddenly that this was the one that had damn near cut him in half earlier in the week. She stood directly in front of him with her arms folded, and the energy she gave off almost completely negating the fact that Cobin had to look down slightly to meet her eyes.

"Uh…" Cobin said, stumbling with what to say, "is your head alright?"

"Did you intend to hurt my team and my friends?" She demanded of him, ignoring the question.

"No," he said, softly but firmly.

"Do you intend to try and hurt them in the future?"

"No."

"Okay," Ruby nodded, "if Professor Ozpin trusts you, than I trust you." then she changed her stance, putting one foot forward and bringing her hand up to point right in Cobin's face. "But if you try anything, I will stop you, and I won't miss a second time." She then turned to the rest of the group, standing off to the side. "Agreed?" she asked them.

The general consensus was a chorus of muttering and scratching of heads, before Pyrrha spoke up again. "I need to know more," She said. "I'll trust Ozpin's judgement that you won't bring any harm to us, but this is too little information for me to just extend my trust to _you_." The muttering that followed this statement seemed to be more agreeable than before.

"I'll take it," said Cobin.

"And that will have to be good for now," Ozpin interjected, "it is still a school day and you all still have a first block to get to. So run along before you're late." He said, shooing them away.

The entire group groaned, but after a second slowly moved as a single mass back down the driveway. Cobin watched as they walked away in silence, probably lost in all of this new information they had taken in before even arriving at their first class. To Cobin's surprise, the small girl turned back and waved, smiling at him as they exited the driveway and turned back down the street.

"That's Ruby," Ozpin said, "a very… interesting student of mine. And you appear to have peaked her curiosity."

"Yeah, and what does that mean?" Cobin asked, a bit worried.

Ozpin just chuckled. "I'll have to be going now, too." He said as he began to stroll down the driveway himself, "Call me if there's an emergency. Otherwise, welcome to Beacon!" He said over his shoulder at Cobin.

"Thanks professor," Cobin said after Ozpin was out of earshot, "you gave me the warm-and-fuzzies."

Cobin shook his head, he was even _more_ sore now. He sighed and grabbed his crate, dragging it back into the shop. There was a bit more light in the sky now and the rays streaming in through the side windows and skylight painted an even worse picture for the status of his living quarters. There was grime on everything, even the dust itself had a greasiness to it. He realized that it wouldn't make any sense to try and do anything in here until he got it cleaned, so he resigned himself to that.

He walked over to where he had set the backpack down on a workbench, and opened it, digging under his blouse to find his MP3 player. It was going to be a long day, and he was going to need music. He pulled the little gadget from the backpack and had a sudden, depressing realization; while he had had the MP3 player with him at the time of the explosion, he did not have his charger. The device that contained his music, his last real connection to the world he had come from, probably had a shelf life of only a few hours now. He sighed, and went to put the player back in his backpack, opting to save it for another time. But as he did, his pocket began to beep.

He had forgotten that he had put the scroll in there, and with his free hand he reached inside and grabbed it, figuring it was probably another message from Ozpin. But when he opened it, the holographic screen displayed: " **UNENCRYPTED DIGITAL STORAGE DEVICE DETECTED. COPY ALL ACCESSIBLE FILES?** " _No way,_ Cobin thought, as he pressed the glowing " **YES** " icon. The screen changed to display the words " **PLEASE HOLD DEVICE UNDERNEATH SCREEN TO BEGIN FILE TRANSFER.** " Following the instructions, Cobin held his MP3 player underneath the holographic screen, which zeroed in on it. Within a second, a little bubble popped up, saying " **NOW DOWNLOADING SOUND FILES-62 GIGABYTES.** " The whole transfer was done in seconds, and when it was, it prompted him with the question: " **BEGIN PLAYING SOUND FILES?** " _Okay,_ he thought, _lets see if this actually works._ He hit the play button and the scroll immediately began playing the introductory tones of a song he knew very well…

" _In tomorrow I see no promise… and yesterday looked like today…"_

The speakers that were built into the scroll itself weren't great, but he decided that they would have to suffice. That is, until the screen displayed the message: " **CONNECT TO LOCAL UNENCRYPTED PA SYSTEM?** " _Well, just hitting yes hasn't failed me so far,_ he thought as he hit the " **CONNECT** " button. Instantly, the song that had just been coming from the tiny scroll could be heard clearly throughout the small building, coming from speakers that were hung from the walls…

" _Woke up, got up, near eleven o'clock, butt naked except, I was wearing my socks. And that's cool 'cause most the time this floor cold…"_

 _Alright,_ he thought, _this won't be so bad after all._

…

In your average Army recruiting center, you might see posters with such motivational phrases as "Every Soldier Is A Warrior" or "Every Soldier Is A Sensor." But the one, absolute truth about all soldiers, no matter where you go, is that Every Soldier Is A Janitor. It's true that even in higher level units, when you just start and are coming up through the ranks, you'll spend a significant amount of time scrubbing muck and grime that someone else put there off of something that doesn't belong to you and isn't your responsibility, that's just the way it goes. So janitorial skills are quickly developed by anyone who spends even a short period of time in the military, and Cobin was no exception. He was well versed in the art of cleaning, and had quickly located the supplies and gotten to work scrubbing, dusting, sweeping, and mopping every surface and under everything that he could move. With the state that the shop was in, it was quite a task and he worked at it through lunch, all the way into the late-afternoon.

When he finally stood and wiped his hands off on a rag, the floor was spotless, the cobwebs were gone, the metal of the lift and the various tool cabinet shined, and the thick dust that had hung in the air when he arrived had vanished. He was pleased with his work, but his sense of success was suddenly overshadowed by the sound of his stomach growling. _Better do something about that,_ he thought, _good a time as any to go and try to find the staff cafeteria._ But, looking down at his once again dirtied uniform, he realized that he would need to change. Which probably would have been a good idea regardless, as the uniforms he had been given would be a lot less conspicuous than his ACU's. He grabbed the duffle bag off the counter and and went back into the washroom, closing the door behind him. He changed quickly into the heavy-duty black pants and grey t-shirt, and opted to wear the boots he had been given as well, completing the whole "local worker" look. Finally, he washed his hands and his face in the sink. When he looked up, he saw himself in the mirror for the first time since he had arrived, and paused. He didn't look any different, save for maybe the black-and-blue bruise sprouting from his cheek, but something about seeing his own reflection in this new world finally cemented him, made him feel like his feet were on the ground for the first time since arriving. Seeing his own face, and knowing completely that it was his face, made it completely real.

He shook his head and turned, heading back toward the main shop area. When he pushed the door open, the first thing he saw was none other than the small girl with the scythe, sitting on top of the hydraulic lift, maybe six feet in the air and swinging her legs back and forth to the rhythm of his music.

" _... I think it was a sunday, sometime in January, I could be wrong and I guess it isn't necessary, but I remember that the ground was made of snow, and if you went outside, you'd better bring your coat…."_

The girl smiled and waved at him, "Hello!" she said.

Cobin nodded in response. "Well, this is an unexpected visit." he said, approaching the lift. Now he had to look up to see her, but somehow, psychologically, it felt like this is what he would be doing even if she was on the ground.

"Well," The girl said, getting a little rosy-cheeked, "I've been watching you for like a couple hours from the skylight so I figured it would be rude if I didn't say hi or something."

 _Oh, well that's fucking outstanding,_ Cobin thought, but didn't vocalize. "Well, can I ask why?" he said, looking down and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Welllllllllllll…" she started, "basically, I want to like you, because it's obvious that Ozpin wants us to like you, and you don't seem like a bad person. But the others… well, they really don't."

Cobin nodded, "Yeah, I kind of got that vibe," he said.

"Now, because I know they won't go out and look for reasons to like you on their own, I'm doing it for them!" She said, smiling, and throwing her arms out for effect.

Cobin raised an eyebrow. "Okay…" he said, unsure of how to respond.

"I like your music." She said, unphased. "It's very different than the kind of music we have here, or at least the kind I listen to. But I like it."

"Well, it's very different from the kind of music I listened to when I was your age, as well." He said. "What kind of music do you listen to?" he tried, making his best attempt to push the conversation forward.

"A lot of dancey-stuff," the girl said, "music you can move to. Usually about adventuring or fighting, or anything exciting, really."

"That sounds about right for someone your age," Cobin said, "After you've done all the exciting stuff for as long as I have, everyday stuff becomes what interests you. A lot of this music you've heard me play this afternoon is just about people being people. That's what becomes the unfamiliar."

"Hmm." She said, thinking, "So you think I'm unfamiliar with action and excitement, then?" she asked.

Cobin shrugged, "I couldn't say, you do seem like you're able to handle yourself well, but I don't know you. But I can guess that people haven't become unfamiliar to you yet."

"Don't know how they could, I'm surrounded by them all day. Were you a hermit soldier or something? Is that why you were always away from people?"

Cobin had to laugh. "No," he said, "but there's a difference between soldiers and regular people. Not like they're better or worse, but just different. You spend months on end only the presence of soldiers and people that want to kill you, all of the little things about normal people that used to annoy you become endearing."

She frowned. "That sounds… really awful."

"Probably," Cobin said, "but you get used to it."

"Well, I hope you meet some people here that you like." She said, smiling at him again.

Cobin returned it. "Thank you," he said.

The girl jumped down from her perch on the lift, landing with a surprising amount of grace. She walked to him and said "Do you have any friends yet?"

Cobin was a little taken aback by the question. "Um, well, Ozpin is…"

"Ozpin's your boss," the she said, cutting him off. She folded her arms. "I'm asking if you have any friends."

"Well, uh… No. I guess not."

"Okay then," she said, holding out her hand, "I'm Ruby Rose, lets be friends."

Cobin was at a loss for words. "Um… well, I…"

"Come on! It's good to have friends."

"But I'm like… old. And mean. And vulgar." He said, not sure of how else to respond.

"Nope! Don't care!" Ruby said in her normal cheery tone, smiling. "Just say yes!"

Cobin grumbled a bit, but finally gave in. "Well, okay." he said, taking Ruby's hand and shaking it. Despite how much smaller her hand was compared to his, he took notice of how strong her grip was. "I'm Serg… I mean, Rockland. Rockland Cobin."

"Nice to meet you, Rockland." Ruby said, releasing her grip. "I should probably get going, have to go back to the team before they start wondering where I am. Also, have to have enough time to convince them you're not a serial killer."

"Yeah, that sounds important." Cobin said.

She turned and took a few steps away from him until she was back under the skylight, then she faced him again. "Rockland, huh?"

"Yeah, I had weird parents." He said.

"Well, it's cool, I think I'll just call you _Rocco._ "

Cobin's eyes grew wide. "No, not that. Absolutely not."

"Why?"

"Because that's what my sisters called me when we were growing up, and I hated it."

Ruby smiled, "Then it's perfect!" Before Cobin had another opportunity to protest, she said "Catch you later, Rocco!" and jumped straight up, a good 20 feet in the air and back out the open window that made up a good portion of the ceiling, disappearing into the evening air.

Cobin just stared up into the skylight for a minute, mouth slightly open. When he finally spoke again, he said "Shit, how do I close that goddamn thing?"

…

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **-Wahs.**


	6. Boxing

When Ruby returned to the dorm room, she found her teammates with their noses buried in their homework, reading an assigned passage or finishing up an essay so that they could have their weekend to themselves. They had been like this ever since class had gotten out and they had all gotten back to their room. Ruby, being Ruby, had decided that the homework could wait until later and told them she was going to go "get some air" so that she could actually go take a closer look at this new and interesting character in her life. When she came in the door, nobody looked up and nobody offered a greeting, as they were all forcing themselves to be completely absorbed in their studies in order to ward off thoughts of that morning's encounter.

"Hey you guys!" Ruby said as she made her way to her and Weiss's makeshift bunk bed and jumped up top. She laid down and took out her scroll, checking to see if she had any new messages. "I hung out with the soldier guy." She said after a couple seconds. Almost instantaneously, the heads of the three older girls appeared at the side of her bed.

"You did _what?!_ " Yang asked, teeth gritted.

"Did he try to hurt you?" Blake asked.

"I bet he's a jerk." Weiss said.

"Woah, woah, woah guys. Back up." Ruby said, sitting up in bed. They all stepped back, giving her a bit more space. Ruby swung her legs over the side of the bed and faced them. "It's all good, I'm fine. He's actually pretty cool."

"How can you say that?" Yang blurted out.

Ruby just shrugged "Because he is…?"

"Yang, calm down." Blake said, "Ruby, why did you go and see that guy?" she asked.

"Because I don't think he's a bad guy," Ruby said, "and I wanted to prove it. And his name's Rocco."

"So what did you even talk about?" Weiss asked.

"Not much, music mostly. He was very polite. Has a mediocre handshake though." Ruby said, trying to remember any more details from the encounter. "I really do think that he was just scared when he first got here. He's harmless now."

Yang just turned and walked away. "I'm going to go study in the library," she said as she grabbed her books off the table. Her three teammates watched silently as she left, knowing there was nothing that could be done right now.

"We'll have to do something about that." Blake said, "Regardless of what this guy's moral character is like, we can't have Yang going off about it every five minutes."

Ruby shook her head and sighed, "Yeah." she said.

Weiss just gave an acknowledging "Hmpf" noise.

"What about you guys," Ruby said, looking at her two remaining team members, "are you on board?"

Weiss folded her arms and shrugged, "I guess," she said.

"Do you really trust him?" Blake asked.

"Yeah. Yeah I do." Ruby said.

"Okay then," Blake said, the bow that covered her ears shifting as she thought, "I'm okay with it, tentatively. But I want to have a closer look myself."

Ruby smiled "I'm sure you'll have a chance!" She said.

…

Cobin had a very accurate internal alarm clock, and it played music. When he went to bed at night, regardless of the exact time, it could be almost guaranteed that eight hours later he would wake up, accompanied by some song playing on loop in his head. He opened his eyes after his first night in the shop. The cot had been comfortable enough, kind of hard to complain after spending months on end sleeping in a HMMWV. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then it started…

 _A city full of people and my favorite is that waitress, and she treats me like some type of common vagrant…_

He swung his legs over the side of the cot and looked around the small office space that was his living quarters in the shop. Along with the cot there was also a desk and a rolling chair. In the drawers he had found lots of old work orders for company vehicles, but nothing newer than six months old.

… _I see her everyday, but there's nothing to say unless I decided to step inside of that cafe…_

He stood and stretched, getting the blood flowing. With a yawn he stepped across the small room to the desk. He didn't have a lot of use for it but it did work nicely as a dresser for storing his clothes. The coffee maker sat on top of it as well, and Cobin made sure to hit the "on" button before he started getting dressed.

 _... I only get to sit if I buy something to eat, otherwise it's best to keep my feet moving down that street…_

He took his time getting his work "uniform" on, wanting to make sure there was at least a bit of coffee ready to go by the time he tied his final bootlace. Afterward, he brought his hands up and rubbed his face again, feeling the prickly little hairs getting longer and more tangled. He made a mental note to try and get a razor from somewhere before the day was up.

… _And god damn she's a hard bitch, talks at me like I'm the bad dog that got into the garbage..._

He grabbed his coffee and sipped it as he walked out into the main shop area. He looked around the room full of tools completely devoid of any work to do. He would have to find some way to fill his days here, doing nothing didn't sit well with him. He was decent with his hands and if there was mechanic-like work that needed to be done he could probably pull it off, but so far it appeared like his days would be mostly empty.

… _Yeah I know the toilet is for customers, you ain't got to tangle up the strings that make this puppet work…_

"Good morning, Sergeant." Someone said from behind him.

Cobin was mid-sip when this happened and he was so startled the coffee almost came out of his nose. He quickly turned to see a light blond-haired woman in glasses leaning up against the wall, right next to the door that he had exited moments before.

… _it doesn't have to be a game of patty cake, but it ain't like you don't know I sleep in that alleyway…_

"Um… who are you?" Cobin coughed, wiping coffee from his face.

"I'm Professor Goodwitch." She said, stepping forward, "And we've met."

"We have?" Cobin asked, raising an eyebrow.

… _and by the way, I can see it your eyes, you're angry with your life, not a stranger to the fight…_

"Yes," Goodwitch said, smiling, "I kicked you in the back of the head the day you arrived here."

Cobin cringed a little bit, remembering the event. "Well, um… thanks, I guess?" He said.

"Hmm. Ozpin told me you had a sarcasm problem."

"Yeah but did _he_ really refer to it as a problem?" Cobin asked, half-smiling.

 _...I bet you hate every man that you date and you're probably addicted to all types of escape..._

Goodwitch frowned. "I've been instructed to give you a tour of certain facilities we have here. I protested, saying that a grown man like yourself should have no problem finding his own way, but Ozpin insisted." She rolled her eyes, "So we're stuck."

Cobin nodded. "In the Army we would say that you got 'volentold'."

"Sounds about right," She said. She moved forward and walked past him toward the door. "Well, come along, lets get this over with."

"Yes, ma'am." He said.

… _you take it out on me that you're all alone when you know that you got your own closet full of hollow bones. Watch your tone when you speak too old folks, I'm groan just trying to get out of this Minnesota cold…_

They walked down the street side by side, away from the shop. Cobin just looked straight ahead and stayed silent, slouching a bit and keeping his hands in his pockets, still tired from having just woken up. Cobin couldn't place his finger on it, but Goodwitch had this weird energy about her, the air around her seemed to buzz like she was electromagnetic or something; a mass of potential energy waiting to be released.

… _I'm waiting for a city bus to flatten me and transport me to the ever-after happily…_

"So what exactly do you do here?" Cobin asked, "Besides, you know, curb-stomp people."

"I serve Ozpin in an advisory and organizational capacity and instruct at higher levels." She said, ignoring his extra comment. "I'm very, _very_ busy." She added.

"I can imagine." Cobin said.

… _Maybe reincarnate with luck, come back to earth as a cockroach in your tip cup…_

There was a couple seconds of silence before Goodwitch spoke again. "Do you find yourself missing your home yet? Anything about where you were from?"

 _Oh, so that's what this is about,_ Cobin thought. "Shit, I don't know… beer and pizza?" He said, dismissively.

"We have those." Goodwitch said.

"Cool, then I'm set, no need to worry." Cobin said.

 _...She said she's had it up to here, she's gonna call authorities if I don't dissapear…_

Goodwitch shook her head. "Look, we understand that what's happened to you must be traumatic. But you're here now, indefinitely." She sighed, "It's necessary that we ensure you're in a healthy psychological state."

"Hmm," Cobin said, shrugging off his sarcastic mask, "Look, I can understand why that's important, I really can. But I just don't know myself right now. Losing someone you care about, going to war, contracting some awful illness, those are things that are 'traumatic.' But that word just doesn't do it for this situation. I'm sure I'm in some kind of shock over all of this, but there's really nothing I can say because the weight of it hasn't hit me yet. I'll let you know when I figure it out."

Goodwitch turned to look at him and nodded, showing her appreciation for his honesty. "Let's head to the combat arenas first." She said, turning and heading toward one of the academic buildings.

… _I love her threats it rejuvenates my breath, I give her stress for the reaction that it gets…_

Once inside, Goodwitch used her scroll to access the arena for the both of them. Cobin took note of just how absolutely large it was. It was like the Colosseum, complete with the circular stands surrounding the battle space. The door they went in deposited them right at the top of the stands, looking down into the arena itself. Down there, he could clearly see two groups of students all armored-up and waiting to go at it.

"We keep this one open on Saturdays, but you have to reserve a time slot." Goodwitch said, "Only team leaders can reserve it, either for practice or a challenge against another team. Looks like we're just in time for the show to begin."

Cobin looked around, taking a mental measurement of the diameter of the arena as well as its high ceiling. "Do you really need all this space just so the students can box each other out?" He asked.

Goodwitch actually laughed. "Just watch, Sergeant."

 _...I got a pocket full of clean handled money on a cup of bad coffee and a stale honey bun. In front of everyone she calls me bum, but she notices my absence on them afternoons I don't come…_

A horn signaled the beginning of the match, and the two groups of students ran at each other from either side of the ring. It all seemed pretty standard for the first couple seconds until the students collided. What followed was the most insane combination of acrobatics, speed, and violence that Cobin had ever seen. The battle even took to the air, filling the entire battle space as the students jumped, kicked and spun into and around each other. In the midst of all of this they were swinging swords, shooting guns, and deflecting bullets with a speed that Cobin would never have thought humanly possible. It was hard for his eyes to keep up. His jaw hung open in awe.

"How… how…" He managed to get out.

"Not how people fight where you're from?" Goodwitch asked.

… _So here I am, thorn in her hip, holding down the corner table all morning with some corn chips..._

Cobin shook his head violently. "Definitely not. How is this possible?"

"Everyone on Remnant has the potential to generate an Aura, a manifestation of one's soul as energy that creates a protective barrier around them." Goodwitch said, "This Aura can be improved and worked like a muscle, making them stronger and faster as they develop themselves and their own style of fighting."

"Okay, doesn't matter what else happens, that will be the craziest thing I've ever seen or heard in my entire life." Cobin said.

… _. Ignoring the insults and evil eyes, I feed off of 'em, I wonder when she'll realize..._

"In addition, they all have a Semblance" Goodwitch continued, "which is related to their Aura, but is a stronger manifestation of their personality and personal power. This special ability is unique to an individual, and can be nearly anything. I understand that you've met Ruby, who's Semblance allows her to move at incredible speed over short distances."

Cobin just looked down and shook his head. "I stand corrected." He said. After a moment of looking at his shoes, thinking, he looked up and turned to Goodwitch. "How… how did I survive the first time?" He asked her.

Goodwitch allowed herself a small smirk. "You were very, _extremely_ lucky."

Cobin nodded, "Guess I can't argue with that."

... _That she's the only reason I visit, the only woman in my world that acknowledges my existence…_

"Come on, let's go next door to the gym." Goodwitch said, beckoning him to follow. As they walked back out the door, Cobin looked back at the human blender of violence that was the student's friendly competition, and silently thanked God or whatever had been watching over him that day.

Goodwitch led the way down the long corridor inside the school building. Cobin looked at how well kept and decorated the interior was. The place looked more like a palace than a school. He could tell just by looking that this place was really, culturally important. Attending was an honor. "Ozpin said something about 'Grimm' when we spoke last. That have something to do with the reason for all of this?"

"The Grimm _are_ the reason for all of this." Goodwitch said.

"And what are they?"

 _...and if my ship ever comes, I'll miss it, 'cause I'm getting old and I got much left to give it. So there it is and I have to live with it, I had the chance to make a difference but I didn't..._

Goodwitch remained silent for a moment, before saying "A lesson for another time, Sergeant. I think you've had enough shocks for today."

Cobin shrugged. "Whatever you say, Ma'am."

Goodwitch stopped at a door a bit further down the hall and waved her scroll in front of the scanner, unlocking it. "It's obvious that physical fitness is important to you," she said as she pushed the door open, "so I'm going to have your security clearance modified so that you have access to this facility as well."

Inside it was a pretty standard, but well equipped gym. There was some equipment that was rather alien to him, but basic weight lifting stuff was universal. The gym appeared mostly empty, which made sense given that it was saturday morning and anyone that might be using it was a high-school aged student. But there was one student, in the corner where there was a ring, some punching bags, and other boxing equipment. She was pounding a bag hard and fast, wailing on it with a never ending series of hooks, jabs and kicks. Cobin's brain was probably a bit damaged by the punch he had taken the previous day because it took him a few moments to recognize the long, tangled blond hair. Then she noticed him.

"Oh shit," Cobin said.

The blond immediately stopped what she was doing and glared at him from across the room. They locked eyes for a couple of seconds before she began moving toward him. Cobin wasn't sure what would happen next, but he locked his jaw, tightened his stomach, and hoped for the best, as Ozpin had instructed him the previous day. She got within a single stride of him and stopped.

… _In the cafe bathroom, drinking free tap water, thinking 'Damn, I should've been a better father to my daughter.'_

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?" She demanded of him.

"Language, Miss Xiao Long." Goodwitch said.

Yang ignored it, "Did you come here to torment me?" she asked him.

Cobin gave her a bemused look, "Yes, because my entire life revolves around fucking up _your_ day." He said, giving her a knife hand.

"Sarcasm, Sergeant Cobin." Goodwitch said.

"Oh, so it's just one big joke to you, isn't it!" She yelled in his face, "You almost hurt my family and I'm just supposed to shrug it off because _you think you're so damn funny_!"

Cobin folded his arms, "You're mad because you thought I was going to kill your sister, right?"

Yang was stopped dead in her tracks. "What… how did you…" she couldn't believe that he had been able to tell that her and Ruby were sisters by looks alone.

"You called out for her, that day when we were trading bullets." Cobin said, "She rushed in to try and take me all by herself, and you couldn't see her through the smoke screen. You thought I was going to kill her, and you called out for her. The tone of your voice told all." The blond just continued to glare at him, but it was more forced now. "I have two older sisters, they looked after me all my life," Cobin continued, "When I joined the Army, part of it was about being able to protect them, to pay them back. I'd never forgive anyone who laid on them."

"So now what, I'm supposed to sympathize with you?" She asked, scowling.

"No," Cobin said, "I don't expect you to just forgive me, so why don't we box a bit so you can get it out of your system?"

"What?" The blond asked, taken aback.

"Let's trade some punches until we can't move our arms anymore. You'll probably beat the crap out of me, but oh well. If we can't coexist after that, we'll have to fake it because I don't have the energy it takes for this relationship." Then Cobin turned to face Goodwitch, "That is, if it's okay with you."

Goodwitch gave Cobin a funny look. "You did just bear witness to what my students are capable of. If you really want to take on Miss Long, one of the best fighters in the first year, be my guest, but this time we won't be accountable for your injuries."

Cobin gulped, he was sure the nervousness was at least minorly visible on his face. "Sounds reasonable," he said. Then he turned back to the Blond. "So, what do you say?"

She diverted her eyes and crossed her arms. "Fine," she said, "but I'm not going easy on you." She turned and made her way toward the ring.

"Please don't," Cobin said, following.

It would have been a lie to end all others to say that Cobin wasn't afraid. He now knew that this woman, fully kitted and armored up could rip him to pieces with about as much effort as it took to squash an ant. But now it was just fists, no weapons. What Cobin was really banking on was the the limited available space in the normal boxing ring versus the huge arena he had been in previously. He figured that because there was so little space to move around she wouldn't be able to take advantage of how much faster she was than him. Of course, despite Cobin's greater mass she still had more brawn than him. So what it would boil down to was simply blocking and avoiding getting pulverized until she made a mistake he could take advantage of. That was the plan, and he was quite possibly betting his life on it.

The blond jumped into the ring and Cobin followed in after her. They stood on opposite sides and faced each other. "Yang Xiao Long," she said, "what's _your_ name?"

"Rockland Cobin," he said, nodding.

"Alright, lets get to it." Yang said, as she raised her fists and got down into her fighting stance.

Cobin did the same, and they approached each other slowly, circling a bit before Yang threw a few quick punches to test the waters. Cobin swatted them out of the way easily; it only takes a small amount of force to divert a straight punch, and more or less boils down to slapping someone's fist as it comes out you, as long as you're fast enough. Cobin didn't really get a feel for how much more powerful she was than him until he had to block a hook; the force of her arm connecting with his rattled his entire structure and actually pushed him back a bit. He had boxed with other SF guys that were built like brick shit houses, but that was definitely the hardest hit he had ever had to absorb. Yang started to mix it up a bit, throwing in a few kicks here and there and picking up the pace of her attacks. Cobin made no offensive moves and focused all of his attention on blocking, dodging, and diverting without ever running away or having put extra distance between himself and her. Even quicker than he was expecting, he found himself becoming fatigued. But at the same time, he could see the frustration growing in Yang's face. She wanted to hit him real, _real_ bad and he wasn't letting her do it.

The mistake came in the form of something seemingly trivial to anyone who might have been watching, but it was deciding. Yang swung at him, and in her frustration leaned into it to try to get just a bit more distance, putting her off balance. This time, instead of just diverting it, Cobin grabbed her wrist and pulled down and back. Yang's own momentum carried her past him and put her face straight into the padded floor of the ring.

Cobin stepped back as Yang picked herself up. When she did, she locked eyes with him and bared her teeth, neglecting to wipe away a bit of blood that was trickling down from her nose. She got back into her fighting stance, ready to go at it again, but Cobin remained standing tall, just facing her with his arms folded.

"Come on," She snarled at him, "aren't you going to squat up?"

"No," Cobin said.

The anger in Yang's face became suddenly replaced by confusion. "Huh?" she said.

"I gave you three freebies, yesterday," Cobin said, "you only took two, so come get your last one."

Yang just looked at him for a second or two, before standing up to her normal height. She walked calmly over to him, and he braced for impact. When she reached him, he was ready to shit himself and was sweating even more than he had when they had been fighting. While looking him in the eyes, Yang raised her hand slowly, and then flicked Cobin in the forehead. She put her hands on her hips.

"You're really fucking stupid, you know that, right?" She asked him

"Yes," he said, a feeling of relief washing over him, "I know."

"You're alright," Yang said, giving a sly smile. "Not going to lie, there's still a part of me that's hoping you burst into flames the next time you go to take a shit, but you're alright, _Rocco._ "

"It's 'Rockland,' actually," he said.

Yang gave him a big grin this time. "Well, Ruby say's it's 'Rocco,' and I still trust her more than I trust you, so deal with it," she said.

Cobin shook his head and sighed. "Right," he said.

Yang laughed, "I've got to get going now, but I'm sure I'll see you around." And with that, she turned and jumped straight out of the ring from where she stood, once again exhibiting just a small dose of that superhuman power that Cobin couldn't believe he had survived. She walked out of the gym without another word, and it was silent for a few moments after the door clicked.

"You have a very interesting way of making friends, Sergeant." Goodwitch said from where she stood on the outside of the ring.

Cobin turned to her and shrugged. "Yeah, well, for the past ten years every friend I had was issued to me by the Army, so I'm a little rusty."

Goodwitch allowed herself to chuckle at that. "Shall we continue the tour?" She asked.

He laughed, "God, there's more? How many times do I have to risk my life this week?"

"All in a day's work, Sergeant." Goodwitch said.

…

At the end of the day, Cobin laid on the floor of the shop, underneath the open skylight and looked at the stars that filled the sky. He couldn't sleep, his mind was too busy, too noisy to shut down and let him get some rest. He brought his hands up above his face and looked at them. He thought about all that he had been through with those hands, the training, the push-ups, the deployments, SERE school. _Oh God, SERE school._ He thought about all this experience he had, and this endless effort he was expected to put forth in his career as one of the elite in the U.S. military. It was a never ending cycle of self-improvement, always evolving and getting better to keep up with those around him. He was a good soldier, a leader, and maybe looking at an early promotion. He was at the top of his game and now, it all meant nothing. In this new world, he was so utterly outmatched and outclassed in every conceivable way that all of his skills were null. There was a fifteen year old girl floating around that could jump in through the window and probably beat him to death with her bare hands if she so chosed. What he could he possibly add to this world?

He let his hands fall back down to his sides. He looked at the stars and silently wondered if one of them was his home galaxy. As he looked, he thought about how everything that had happened was so bizarre, so completely from the left-field of the universe. Tornados and earthquakes were meaningless, random tragedies, but this couldn't be that. This had to mean something. There had to be some goddamn _reason_ why he was here. He just had to figure out what it was. Then he yawned, the weight of how tired he was overcame him as the noise in his head subsided.

Cobin stood, and made his way to the cot. The search would begin tomorrow.

…

 **Oh my god I'm so tired I'm seeing things but I'm impatient and wanted to finish this. Hope you enjoyed reading it!**

 **-Wahs.**


	7. Daughter

Blake Belladonna didn't look at the events of the past week as anything but an irritation. It's not that she was indifferent to this new presence in her life or to the unnecessary violence he had caused, but more than anything else she just thought of him as a new thing to distract her and her teammates from their real goals. Blake didn't like to belittle the struggles of her companions or think of them as petty, but she _was_ a fugitive terrorist in a desperate struggle for the rights of her people, while everyone that surrounded her on a daily basis were pretty much just… high schoolers. When all hell had broken loose at the beginning of the week, she had immediately resigned herself to being the one who would keep the team on course and ready to fight the real fight. But that had been… frustrating, to say the least.

It was Sunday, and Blake was holed up in her usual spot in the library for when she wanted to be left alone to study. She found that no matter what hidden, dark corner of the place she sat in, there would always be someone that would find her and want to start up a conversation. So she switched tactics and began sitting in the one table that was directly in front of the librarian's desk. The librarian was a well known horror on campus and would brutally destroy anyone she caught talking the library, so sitting directly in front of her dissuaded anyone who might want to come and have a chat with Blake while she was trying to work.

She was sitting in this spot, absorbed in a book when someone rang the librarian's desk bell rather loudly. She found it irritating but didn't look up until she heard the voice…

"Um, excuse me?"

Blake didn't believe her furry ears. She looked up and low and behold, standing in front of the desk was none other than _him._

…

Cobin figured he must have hit the bell a little to hard because when the little old librarian looked up at him she did so with a well-practiced scowl. "Um, excuse me?" he said after a few seconds.

"Yes, what can I help you with today?" the librarian said with a very obviously forced smile.

"Um, can I check out books as a staff member here at the Academy?" he asked, now hesitant.

"Yes of course," she said, "is this your first time here?"

"Yes," he said.

"No problem, let me see your work scroll," she said, extending a hand. Cobin reached inside of his pocket and removed the little device, handing it to her across the desk. She scanned it and said, "You now have unlimited access to the library's resources, Mister Cobin. It has always been very important to Professor Ozpin that anyone he purveys over has the necessary tools to educate themselves, and he takes great pride in that. Like everyone else though, you will be limited to checking out three books at a time." She said as she handed him back his scroll.

"Shouldn't be a problem," he said. He put his scroll back in his pocket and then just stood silently there, in front of the counter, unsure of what to do now that he had gotten this far.

A few seconds went by before the librarian said "... and is there something else I can help you with today?"

"Oh, um, yes," he said, stumbling, "I'm looking for history books."

"Okay, history of what?" she asked.

"Just like, uh, everything," he blurted out, "history in general." The librarian just looked at him like a very tired mother might look at a baby that had just spit up on itself for the fifth time that day. He had to think fast to get out of this one. "It's for my daughter," he said, "she's very interested in history but she's still young. So if you could help me find something that she could understand I would appreciate it."

The librarian seemed to smile genuinely for the first time, "No problem, mister Cobin." The librarian stood and walked out from behind the desk. "Follow me," she said.

He followed her down near the end of the shelves where finally there was a giant row marked as "History." The shelves of books were stacked so high that they created a shadow over the space between them, and Cobin almost felt as though the librarian was leading him into a cave or something. She stopped near the end of the row and reached up, standing on her toes to grab a book off the third shelf. She blew the dust off of the cover and handed it to him. "This should be a good start." she said.

"Thank you," he said, taking the book. It was old, the cover was devoid of pictures but was very nicely decorated, with the words "WORLD OF REMNANT" proudly displayed across the front. "Yes, this will be perfect," he said.

"You're a very good father," the librarian said, "for encouraging your daughter to learn."

This caught Cobin off guard, and he suddenly found himself unable to speak. It took him a couple of seconds, but he finally looked up at the librarian and smiled "Thank you," he said.

"Alright, lets go get that checked out for you." the librarian said, as she walked past him back toward the light.

…

Blake watched this whole interaction take place, unnoticed. She was a bit upset with herself for allowing herself to become distracted by it, but at the same time it was very curious to her why he would be there. After she had watched him check out and exit the library she found herself with more questions than answers, and they were poking at her brain a little too forcefully for her to simply go back to her book. She waited a minute or so, and then followed him out the door. She didn't exactly know what she wanted from him, but she was going to damn well find out.

…

Cobin had made himself a nice little set up for reading in the shop. He had opened the big garage door, allowing the fresh air to flow in, and then pulled his sitting crate up against the door frame, half way and half way out of the shop, and then sat with his back against the frame, quietly reading and sipping a beer as he enjoyed the breeze and general quiet of Sunday, plus a nice chill soundtrack over the shop's PA…

" _You know I've made things with clay and been covered in mud,_

 _I've seen men do miracles, hands covered with blood,_

 _I've coveted much and been subjected to flood,_

 _I've been forged in fired and rejected as a dud…"_

The book the librarian had given was definitely for someone in the age range of 7-10 years old, but when you're trying to consume the entire history and culture of a planet you had never been to before, it was a good place to start. He was maybe halfway through his first beer when a voice came from behind him.

"Hey!"

Cobin spit out his beer and turned around, startled, to see the taller black haired girl with amber eyes that he recognized as being one of Ruby's groupies. "Jesus why can't you people knock?" he coughed, "The front door is wide open, is it really necessary to put in the extra effort to descend upon me from the sky and make me piss myself?"

The girl's face remained unchanged. "I still can't be sure of what you would have done if you had seen me coming," she said, "I will always take the precaution of ensuring I have the upper hand."

"Okay. Terrifying, but okay." He said, shaking his head, "So is there something I can help you with?"

"Why are you reading that book?" she asked him

Cobin shrugged, "I've been on this planet for less than a week, gotta start somewhere."

"That's a children's book," she said.

"Yeah, well, in order to make it through this I'm going to have to be able to understand it while I'm drunk, so it works out." Cobin said, taking a swig from his beer.

The girl frowned at him, "I thought this was a dry campus." she said.

"That may be," Cobin said, smiling and wagging his finger at her, "But Manny, who works the counter at the staff cafeteria has the hook-up."

"Do you really find it necessary to break the rules?" She said, crossing her arms.

"I'd like to think of it as simply exercising my resourcefulness," he said. As Cobin took another sip of his beer he more closely observed the girl's face and quickly realized that if he wanted to avoid making an unnecessary enemy he would have to stop being an asshole for at least five minutes. He sighed, "Look, go grab that crate from over there," he said, pointing toward the front corner of the shop, "have a seat and lets talk." She didn't protest, and silently did as he instructed. She brought the crate over and set it down in front of where he sat before taking a seat herself. "So, remind me what your name is," he said.

She hesitated, but then said "Blake. Blake Belladonna. And you're Rocco, right?"

 _Oh, Goddamnit_ he thought, "Yeah, I guess so," he said, continuing to sip his beer, "So what's up?"

Blake paused, taking a second to look him in the eyes, "I don't know why you're here, or where you came from, but what I do know is that it's interrupting what's important to me, and I'm going to be very upset if there isn't a good reason for it."

"You and me both," Cobin said, "You might be disappointed though, because I know just about as much as you do. I've got no idea how I got here or why, but I'm trying to figure it out," he said, holding up the book.

"You really don't have anything, not even a guess?" she asked, reaching for any explanation.

He shook his head, "It's as inconceivable a thing to me as it is to you."

Blake nodded, "So what did you do before you came here?"

"As I've said before, I was a soldier," He said "We were at war. That's what I was doing."

"But you're not a normal soldier," Blake said, "I know a bit about soldiers, and I've never seen one fight like you."

"Maybe I just got lucky," Cobin said.

"Maybe that had something to do with it," she said, "but I know that there's more to it than that."

Cobin sighed, it was a good a time as any to give up the details, he figured. At this point he was pretty much convinced that no matter what was going on, it was definitely not an advanced interrogation technique. "I was Firth Group, U.S. Army Special Forces," he said, "I was part of an ODA, or Operational Detachment Alpha."

"That might be impressive where you're from, but it means nothing to me," Blake said, "What did you do in the Army?"

Cobin laughed, "Well, when you're in the military there's usually a pretty big difference between what they train you to do and what you actually end up doing while deployed. Technically, as Special Forces our mission directive involved direct action, unconventional warfare, counter terrorism, covert reconnaissance, and force multiplication, which basically means we were supposed to go out and train other people to fight for us."

"And what did you actually do?" Blake asked.

"Killed people and broke their shit." Cobin said without missing a beat.

Blake was a little bit taken aback by how blunt this response was, "You seem very nonchalant about that," she said, her normally stoic complexion breaking down.

"Well, there's not a whole lot of point in lying about it," Cobin said, "that's what we did. Everyday on deployment for months at a time we'd wake up, and be like 'Okay, is there someone we have to kill? Someone's shit we have to break? Awesome, lets go do it' and then we'd go hit the target. Repeat. Sometimes we'd hit the target and get intel on another target in the process and go immediately hit that one. After a while, like everything else, it just gets normalized. I put as much thought into it as you put into getting dressed and going to school everyday."

"But there had to be a reason for it, right?" Blake said.

Cobin shrugged, "When we started there was, someone gave us a reason to fight. But eventually whatever that reason was just sort of broke down and all we were left with was the fact that we were already there and there were people who were trying to kill us, so we might as well kill them back."

Blake's facial expression became angry, "But that's ridiculous, you can't just wage a war without a reason for it! Why didn't you quit?"

Cobin took a moment to finish off his beer before answering, "Why did you?" He said, looking Blake in the eyes.

Blake's eyes got wide "Wha… what…"

"Oh come on," Cobin said, "You've got eyes in the back of your head, at least half of your attention is always directed behind you like you're looking for something. Maybe a security team, or someone tailing you?" He laughed, "A counterintelligence officer, possibly?"

"I...I don't know what…" Blake stumbled.

Cobin held up his hand, "Now, I don't expect you to reveal to me all of your deepest, darkest secrets. But when you realized whatever your superiors were asking of you didn't jive with what you believed, you had the chance to just stop, get out and move on, right?"

Blake regained her composure. "Yes," she said.

"That's what I thought," Cobin said, "Now imagine you're legally bound to keep going, keep fighting, and if you don't you'll go to jail for like, the rest of your life. And regardless of your large-scale world view, and what your own ideals are, you're still surrounded by people who hate you, for whatever reason, and are actively trying to kill you. It's not like we were just slaughtering innocent people, they were fighting us for sure, with everything they had. But why were fighting them got a bit blurred after a while."

Blake was silent for a few moments. "There's a lot of unnecessary pain and suffering in this world, brought on by greed and ignorance," she said "I thought I was fighting to end it. I _was_ fighting to end it. But the people I was working with kept being more and more like the people that were supposed to be our enemies. So I left."

Cobin nodded, "But before you did you probably did some fairly deplorable things," he said.

"Yes," She said.

"Well, I've got more than a few of those myself," Cobin said. "When I joined the Army I thought I was doing it to protect my family. That turned out to be bullshit." Then he laughed. "But that's what life is, we all make a mess and then try to project some kind of perfection. Thankfully though, it's never too late to make a change in your own life."

"Rocco?"

"Yes?"

"Now that you're here, what do you want to do?" She asked him.

The question hit him harder than he let show, "I don't know. I'd like to be useful, I guess, but it's hard when I'm so outmatched." He said, forcing a small laugh.

Blake stood, "I don't know about that," She said, "I'll be leaving now." And with that, she walked around him and started to make her way down the short driveway.

"Have a nice day!" he called after her as he opened another beer.

She stopped, and turned to look at him again. "Do you really have a daughter?" she asked him.

He stopped as he was moving the bottle toward his mouth and froze for a second, before setting it back down. "No," he said, after several seconds, "No I don't."

Blake nodded, and without another word walked off down the street.

…

It was the end of the weekend and team RWBY found themselves once again back in their dorm room, laying in bed in their PJ's and silently mentally preparing themselves for the week of hard academics to come. All except for Ruby herself, who was now furiously scribbling away at the homework she had neglected to do on Friday. There was this uncanny silence that hung in the air that had been coming ever since the previous Tuesday when they had first come into contact with Cobin.

"I think that soldier guy is pretty alright," Yang said suddenly.

"Yeah, me too," Blake said, "Or at the very least, it doesn't seem like he has any malintent."

Ruby looked up from her homework, "Yay! No more unnecessary anger!" She said.

"Good, now we can all get back to focusing on school and everything can go back to normal," Weiss said, obviously a bit annoyed by the voices interrupting her own thoughts.

"He's got balls though," Yang interjected, "He was going to let me completely punch his face in. He's got a bit of a mouth on him, but he's alright."

"So do you, Yang." Ruby laughed.

"Hey! I'm not that bad!" The older sister said.

Then Blake spoke again, "He seems a bit sad, actually. Maybe really sad," she said. "I think he left behind a lot more than he's saying that he has."

"What do you mean?" Yang asked.

"I don't know for sure," Blake said, "It's just a feeling."

"We should try and help him!" Ruby beamed.

"Yeah, maybe. But how?" Blake asked.

"Gah!" Weiss said, "Let's just go to bed and worry about this in the morning. I don't want to pass out in class tomorrow."

All heads turned to look at the clock, and they groaned in unison. Weiss had a point, it was getting late and Monday was approaching faster than any of them would really have liked. "We'll figure it out tomorrow." Ruby said, and the others nodded in agreement. When Ruby finally closed her homework, long after her other teammates had gone to bed, she laid in her bunk and stared at the ceiling for a minute. There really was never a dull moment in this place, and as she drifted off to sleep, she thought to herself, _what a crazy week._

…

 **Short one today.**

 **Hey, so first of all, because people keep asking about the music I'm just going to list any songs I reference in a chapter at the ending author's note. The one song featured in this chapter is "Forged" by Josh Martinez.**

 **Secondly, thanks for reading! The story probably seems a bit disjointed, and the last couple chapters have had rather abrupt endings, the reason for this is linked to the reason for me writing this story in the first place. Basically, I haven't written fanfiction in a pretty long time, and my reason for coming back to it now is therapeutic. Writing this story has been helping me relieve some major stressors in my life, and that's why it exists; there isn't really a huge overarching plot that I have all aligned in my head, I just sit down at my computer at the end of the day and start writing, and publish whatever I've finished after I'm too psychologically exhausted to continue. For the time being, that's how I'll continue to update this story. I don't know where it's going to go, but you're welcome to stick around for the ride and find out with me.**

 **Cheers!**

 **-Wahs.**


	8. Drill

"Ya'll hear that? Private Cobin here want's to be special forces!"

"Shut the fuck up, Vogels." Cobin, the 19 year old private said from his seat in the back of the HMMWV.

"What?" Vogel's said, turning around from the shotgun seat to eye his comrade, "How're you going to pass selection if you can't even deal with me giving you a bit of shit?"

Cobin scowled. "Vogels the stupidity that comes out of your mouth is so incredible I think it may be radioactive, so stop talking before I become infertile or some shit."

"Oh shit, big man with big words!" Vogels said, "Your fucking MI POG friends over at the S2 teach you those?"

"Yeah, all while you were busy gettin' the clap from sharing a flesh light."

"Both of you shut the fuck up!" Sergeant Pinkerton said. "I'll fucking push both of you out the damn door and you can run along beside the truck!"

"Yes, sergeant." They both muttered.

Before this first deployment, Cobin would never have thought that sand could be so ravenous, so unstoppable. All the time it felt like it was getting inside of him, tearing at his skin. Even when he laid down to sleep at night in the back of the truck, he felt it in his mouth when he gritted his teeth. He didn't mind the sun, he didn't mind eating MRE's everyday, or carrying over a hundred pounds of gear, he didn't even mind getting shot at that much, but he loathed the sand.

Three months into deployment and this day was like any other; another dirt road and another mounted patrol. The other day, a drone had picked up what someone, somewhere had thought was "suspicious activity" along this MSR, so they mounted up and rolled out to drive straight down it in a convoy of HMMWV's that could probably be seen from a hundred miles in every direction. Thus was counterinsurgency. Today, though, it seemed to be taking a lot longer to get over with than normal.

"Sergeant, why are we going so fucking slow?" Cobin said after a few minutes, "Who's leading the convoy?"

"It's Sergeant Groth and his squad, you know how he likes to be cautious." Pinkerton said.

"Aaahhhhh, okay." Cobin said, now understanding. Sergeant Groth was _that_ NCO, the guy who took care of his guys like they were his kids. That sort of mentality had its ups and downs. Sergeant Pinkerton, by comparison was an apathetic alcoholic whose enlistment period was up as soon as they got back from deployment, and boy was he ready to take his veteran's benefits and run. Pinkerton mostly left his men completely alone to their own devices until one of them got _him_ in trouble. Sergeant Groth was that guy who would come to the bar at 0200 on a Saturday to pick up his drunk privates so they didn't get DUI's trying to get back to the barracks. Solid dude, but maybe a little overbearing.

Suddenly the ground beneath them rocked and their ears rang as the sound of a blast filled the air around them, even through the thick metal of the HMMWV. Over the static of the radio there was suddenly somebody yelling "STOP STOP STOP ALL VEHICLES HALT." Cobin attempted to squeeze his face as much as he could against the glass of the window to try and see up ahead of the truck in front of them, but to no avail.

Sergeant Pinkerton grabbed the handset from the dash of the truck. "What the fuck is going on up there?" He asked, all proper radio etiquette going straight out the window.

The radio squawked, and then responded with "All vehicles this is vehicle Kilo Three Alpha, the convoy has been hit by an IED. Looks like the first couple of trucks in the line…"

Then everything went black.

" _God may hate both of us, but the Devil welcomes only me…"_

…

Cobin opened his eyes, and the dream was over.

He had allowed himself to drink maybe a bit more than he should have on Sunday night. He had continued to drink and read after Blake left until the english language became more like post-graduate calculus, and then he put the book down, closed the garage, and drank some more. It was a mature, high-functioning-alcoholic drunk and not a freshman-year-of-college-sorry-I-puked-in-your-fridge-dude drunk. But it was a significant amount of alcohol none the less and when Cobin awoke the next morning he found that the intolerance for the stuff he had developed after 4 months deployed in a dry country had definitely carried over trans-dimensionally.

He sat up in bed a bit too fast and gasped as this feeling of a needle making it's way into his frontal lobe overcame him. He put his face in his hands and shook his head, he could already tell that this was going to be a very bad morning. His one solace, he thought, was that it was Monday and everyone who would normally have nothing better to do than come bother him would probably be quite busy with the start of a new week. It would certainly be an unfortunate time for one very chipper, scythe-wielding girl to drop in on him from the skylight like a spider monkey from hell. Or an assistant professor with an attitude problem. Or a super angry blond. Or…

Cobin shook his head. Hangovers were not the time for such horrifying contemplations. When he was finally able to stand and drag himself over to his dresser, he didn't even bother with his clothes, he just sat in the office chair and squinted through half-closed eyes as he made a extra strong batch of coffee and watched it brew. _I am NOT going to be doing that again,_ he thought as he impatiently waited for his caffeine.

As he sat back and sipped his coffee in nothing but his boxers, slowly feeling the toxins drain out of him, he thought about how he might fill the coming day. Now, for most people the day after a night of heavy drinking meant sleeping until the afternoon and then hiding under a blanket with their eyes glued to a screen or something similar, but this was not the not the Cobin mentality. Despite how much he drank when he was not deployed he always hated the feeling of having wasted time when he woke up the next morning, and always was compelled to compensate to the point he would get antsy and irritable if he didn't. Typically, this meant going to the gym.

Yes, that was it. He would go to the gym. He remembered that Professor Goodwitch had modified his security access to allow him to use the gym next to the main combat arena. So now that he had a destination, he picked himself up out of the chair, chugged his coffee and reached for his clothes. Now, he didn't have any good gym clothes, but he figured the next best thing would be his ACU's, which he hadn't worn since he got back from the hospital. They didn't breath very well but they were meant to take a beating and be worn under the hot desert sun for long periods of time, and he had lifted in them plenty of times before while on deployment.

He got dressed into his trousers, boots, socks, and undershirt but once again left his blouse behind. Once he was finished, he walked out of the office space that was his sleeping quarters and onto the main floor of his shop. Years and years of people screaming at him about being "detail oriented" apparently paid off because the very first thing he noticed was a small piece of paper hanging off of the hydraulic lift in the middle of the shop floor. As he got closer, he saw that it was a small yellow sticky note. He grabbed it off the lift and brought it close to his face to read the very fine print scribbled across it. It read: " _I closed the skylight for you, looks like whoever used it last left it open. Sorry if I woke you up! -Ruby"_

Cobin looked up from the note and sighed. "I've literally slept in a three feet deep hole the in ground in a combat zone in the desert, and never in my life have I felt quite this vulnerable," he said, thinking out loud. He shook his head and shoved the note in his pocket, and started making his way toward the door.

When Cobin got the gym he was happy to see other students there doing their morning workout routines before their first classes started. Thankfully, there seemed to be no one he knew so he could work out and observe in peace. Although he was always genuinely interested in improving or maintaining his level of physical fitness, he had another motivation for going to the gym that morning. He had a theory that was slowly developing about the "Auras" that these people were able to generate, and he figured the gym was the best place to test it out. His theory was that an Aura didn't actually make one stronger or give someone more power per gram of muscle mass than someone from Earth, but that the force field around them simply became stronger and more reactive in a directly proportional manner to the power that was applied against it. In his mind, he related it to water; a non-viscous liquid that you could move through with ease, especially if you were just running your hand through it or dipping your toes in it over a dock, but if you jumped off a bridge and hit water going in excess of a hundred miles per hour, it's no different than hitting concrete at a hundred miles per hour. This, he reasoned, was the only way that the students could perform all of those incredible aerial maneuvers and literally have bullets bounce off of them, all the while he was able to hold his own in a simple boxing match against one of the school's top fighters.

The important part of this theory was that, if it were true, it meant that there was a bottom threshold of energy where the Aura couldn't protect someone at all if the power behind the attack was too little to make it reactive. Basically, you can't shoot someone in the face with a shotgun, but you can still slide a knife into their brain stem.

Cobin shook his head. He had to stop relating everything to how he could most effectively kill someone. It was a bad habit and he felt no reason to develop a plan of action that involved bringing harm to any of these people. Still though, the theory remained in his head as he went about his own routine. He did several sets of different kinds of bench presses and deadlifts, going a bit easier on himself than he normally would have, as he couldn't be entirely sure how his body had coped with being ripped from one reality to another, if it was the same body at all. As he did this though, he carefully observed the students around him, making note of how much weight their own routines involved in comparison to how well built they appeared. This was by no means fool-proof or scientific, but as he observed he didn't notice anything that appeared abnormal; there were no guys or gals built like twigs who were deadlifting 350, and no one was making an example of super-human like strength in any other form. This he figured, meant his theory had merit; muscle mass meant the same here as it did on his planet, regardless of how strong someone's Aura was.

He finished his last set on the bench and began walking to the other side of the gym toward the treadmills, figuring he'd get a bit of cardio in before he left. As he was making his way there, he "accidentally" bumped into a student walking the other way. They exchanged quick apologies and the kid quickly forgot about it, but it was important to Cobin. When he had bumped into the student, he had felt nothing out of the ordinary, no magical forcefield pushing back against him. There was this very slight, almost unnoticeable buzzing feeling, something like electromagnetism, but it was nominal and did nothing to counteract the force of his shoulder against the student's. He ran a mile or so on the treadmill in silence, thinking.

When he exited the building, he stopped and took a minute to breathe, admiring the fresh air and the beautiful day. After a moment he sighed, rather disappointed in himself; he didn't like the fact that he was spending so much mental energy on figuring out how to exploit the weaknesses in the people around him, it wasn't doing him any good and he'd much rather be able to focus on something actually productive. He just decided he would have to be more vigilant with shoving those thoughts out his head and replacing them with new ones.

Then suddenly off to his right, he heard a faint female voice say "Cardin stop I just want to go eat!" The voice sounded afraid.

Cobin turned to see four boys in a half-circle around a girl who had her back up against a wall. Cobin did pause for a minute, observing the girl's long, rabbit-like ears, but then the big guy in the center, the leader probably, said "You don't need to go to the cafeteria, just eat some grass, rabbit-girl!" Whatever curiosity Cobin had about the girl was suddenly replaced by a well directed, well-managed anger. He was already hungover, tired from working out, and generally upset with himself, but seeing this sort of thing pissed him off to no end.

It was Drill Sergeant Cobin time.

…

For the first time since Friday, the members of team RWBY had ran into their counterparts in JNPR that morning at breakfast. That's the way the weekends normally go, no matter how much you like someone, if you work with them everyday you probably don't make any extra effort to see them on your off hours, but that was alright. They ate and chatted, and left the main dining hall together to head for the combat arena; it was Monday morning which meant sparring matches for the first years. As they made their way there, they began to get into a bit more detail about how their weekends had gone, including their interactions with a certain soldier…

"No way," Pyrrha said, "he really beat you in a straight-up fist fight?"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say he _beat me_ ," Yang said, her ego instinctively shielding itself, "it was more like a draw. But yeah, dude can fight. Even without an Aura or a Semblance."

"That's crazy," Jaune said.

"Maybe he's an alien!" Nora said, springing into the conversation.

"He is an alien, Nora," Lie said.

"No but… I mean a _cool_ alien, like a super strong lizard man in a human suit!" She said, her eyes gleaming as her imagination teamed with possibilities.

"I don't think that's how that works, Nora," Ruby said.

"I haven't seen how tough he is first hand," Blake said, "but I think he's a lot smarter than he really lets on to."

"What do you mean?" Pyrrha asked.

"I don't know, he just has this like scary level of observational ability," Blake said, "but at the same time it's really not scary because you get this sense that he wouldn't use it against you."

"Hmm," Pyrrha said, thinking.

"You should really go talk to him yourself, Pyrrha," Ruby said, "I think you'll find he's a pretty sweet dude."

"I'll think about it," Pyrrha said.

They were getting close the academic hall that housed the main combat arena, and as they rounded the final corner that would lead them to the front door, they all stopped in their tracks, and stared wide eyed at the scene that was taking place before them.

"What you are feeling IS NOT pain! You understand?! It is MILD DISCOMFORT…"

…

"Hey, _warriors_!" Cobin shouted at the group of boys harassing the rabbit eared girl. When an NCO prepares to belittle or embarrass an underling, it is always preferable for them to refer to that person with a term of endearment in a facetious or sarcastic manner. A Staff Sergeant might call his Marine a _Devil Dog_ ; A Petty Officer or a Chief might tell off his _Shipmate_ ; and for the Army the prefered term was _Battle_ (a shortening of "Battle Buddy"). Because none of those made any sense without context, Cobin decided that _Warrior_ would suffice. When the four boys all turned their heads toward him, he pointed at the ground in front of him and said, "Get _the fuck_ over here, _right now._ "

The three smaller boys all looked to the giant mass of muscle that Cobin had correctly assumed was their leader. The larger boy didn't give any directions or indications, and simply began walking toward Cobin casually, taking his time to show that he didn't much care what this unknown person thought of him. The three other boys followed in tow, all smiling or giggling. The leader was obviously used to his size being enough to intimidate people, because when he got within a stride of Cobin and the smaller man didn't even flinch, a look of concern came over his face.

"Took your sweet goddamn time, didn't you?" Cobin snapped.

"Okay," the leader laughed dismissively, "and who are you?"

"I'm your new goddamn instructor, that's who the fuck I am." Cobin said. Every sentence was snapped out of his mouth like a whip now, there was no turning back.

The confident look on the boy's face melted and quickly turned to panic. "Oh, sir, um… we were just having fun, laughing with our friend over there."

"Bullshit," Cobin said, having none of it, "what was so goddamn funny?"

A genuine look of fear was now spreading across the large boy's face. "We were laughing about, uh, how… she's like an animal, you know?"

" _She's_ the animal?" Cobin yelled, causing the large boy to take a step back, "You look like the only goddamn animal around to me! Did they splice your shit up with a goddamn gorilla?"

"Wha...what?"

"Holy dog shit you're stupid, there's probably some dog in there too! If I rang a fucking bell would you drool, Pavlov?"

"How does that… what?"

Cobin looked like he might spontaneously combust with rage. "Say 'what' to me ONE MORE goddamn time, warrior. Make my fuckin' day!"

All of the eyes of the boys around the gorilla were already wide and filled with fear, and at this point his eyes grew to be the same. "What?" He muttered out in panic.

"That's it!" Cobin yelled at them, "Get down, all of you, _right the fuck now,_ push ups, GO!" The Drill Sergeant voice was irresistible, and all four of the panicked boys did as they were told and got down and started pushing. They were out of sync with each other, their form was awful, and they weren't going all the way down. It was only making Cobin madder. "HOLY SHIT!" He yelled at them, "You all look like a soup sandwich, made with a _bag of smashed assholes_! Get down! Arms parallel to the marching surface! Go!"

"The what?" One of the boys said, looking up at Cobin from his front-leaning-rest.

"THE GODDAMN GROUND THAT'S WHAT!"

It took them a few seconds, but finally all four of the boys found themselves low in the pushup position. Cobin took notice of at least one of them who already appeared to be struggling. _Superhuman my ass,_ he thought. "Alright, let me explain something to all of you," He said as he paced back and forth in front of the small formation of scared teenagers, "when you _bully,_ when you _haze,_ you are making this team weaker. You are counteracting the reason that _you are here,_ making _negative progress_ toward your goals. When you _harass_ and _exploit_ a fellow warrior who might very well _save your life one day,_ you are wasting this institution's time. Even more than that, you are wasting _my_ time, and for that you will suffer greatly." Cobin stopped his pacing directly in front of the leader and looked down at the boy, confused and distraught. "This is what's going to happen, when I say 'up' you will go _up_ , and sound off with 'I will not haze,' when I say 'down' you will go down, and sound off with 'fellow warriors.' _Do you understand?!_ "

All of the boys weakly responded with "Yes, sir" or some variant of it.

"I can't HEAR YOU!" Cobin shouted.

"YES SIR!" they rang out in unison.

Cobin almost wanted to say, 'Do I look like a fucking officer to you?' but he controlled himself, and simply said "Up!"

He continued with having them do push ups for maybe ten more repetitions, then switched it to sit-ups, all the while having them constantly repeat the same phrase over and over again. After a while of sit-ups he went to jumping jacks, then back to pushups. Normally there would an entire playbook of obscure Army exercises he could use to torture ate-up privates, but something told him that in this situation if he said 'The Leg Tuck And Twist!' he probably would have just been met with blank stares, so he stuck to the basics. After not too long of this, fatigue began to show even in the face of the gorilla, which was the goal. Nobody, no matter how strong, got through a good smoking session without hating their life.

He had them in the front-leaning-rest again and one of the boys dropped to his knees. Cobin got down on one knee in front of him and said, "What the hell are you doing, warrior?"

"It hurts, sir!" The boy mutter weakly.

"No," Cobin said, "What you are feeling IS NOT pain! You understand?! It is MILD DISCOMFORT! Come back and tell me about _pain_ when you get _shot_ or when one of your limbs gets ripped off. In this path you have chosen in life, you're going to spend a lot of time quite _uncomfortable,_ if you're not okay with that, I would seriously reavulate your life choices."

"Umm, excuse me…?" Cobin heard a small voice say from off to his side. He looked toward the source of the voice to see none other than Ruby and the entire team of people that had come to greet him the morning he had been released from the hospital.

 _Oh fuck,_ he thought. He stood up, and directed his attention back toward the four boys on the ground. "Alright, warriors, saved by the fuckin' bell. Get the hell up! Move with a purpose."

There was a collective groan as they all stood, looking dazed and sore and tired. Cobin stepped up the gorilla and folded his arms, looking the large boy straight in the eye. "You can't treat other students like that," He said. His tone of voice had changed, going from Angry-As-Fuck Drill Sergeant to Calm-But-Demanding Drill Sergeant. "When you do that, try to break other people's will, put them down for no reason, you are making that person -who's life you may depend on one day- less effective at what they do. You're part of a chain that's only as strong as it's weakest link, so why are you banging on it with a hammer? Square your shit away and realize that there's a lot more important shit in life than what you think is funny. Understand?"

"Yes… yes sir," The gorilla said, shaken but understanding.

"Secondly," Cobin said, "when you're out in public and you pull shit like that, people are always watching you. Especially when you're out with normal people, the people who think you're some great warrior who's there to protect them. When you insist on acting-a-damn-fool in front of those people, they lose faith you in. But not just you, _all of you_ ; this academy, every huntress and huntsman in the world. You are a representative of all of your kind when you're in public, and the minute you do something that makes all those civilians with their little happy lives believe you can't protect them, it no longer matters how good you are at it, it no longer matters how strong you are when nobody's looking. Because those people don't _feel safe_ anymore, and that's why you do this, above all else. Don't forget that." The gorilla didn't speak this time, he looked to ashamed of himself to say anything, he simply nodded and diverted his eyes. "Okay, get the hell on to class," Cobin said.

The four boys quickly grabbed their things and ran off into the building. When Cobin turned back toward Ruby and her friends, he saw the eight teenagers just staring at him in some sort of shock. He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. "It's been a long morning," he said.

Suddenly, the rabbit eared girl was in front of him. "Um… thank you," she said timidly, looking down.

"Are you alright?" he asked, completely shrugging off the act. The girl just silently nodded, so he returned it and said, "Good, now go to class." And with that she ran past him into the building. When he looked toward the other students again he smiled and said "Hey, Ruby. Look at you, all crew'd up. What's up?"

"What in the world was that!?" She asked, exasperated.

"I don't know," Yang said, "But it was awesome."

"It's sort of a long story," Cobin said, "do you all have a class to get to?" He asked, and was met with general nods from the group. He just quickly explained that he had seen those four boys ganging up on that girl, and so he had stepped in. He asked if they wanted to meet up later so that he could explain in more detail and they all agreed they would meet up at the academy cafe for lunch. Then the group of students ran inside to get to their sparring matches.

…

"Okay, so what was all that about?" Ruby asked, repeating her question from before.

Cobin sipped his cup of cheap cafe coffee, "I told you, I saw those four students ganging up on that girl, and I didn't like it, so I stopped it."

"There's a difference between putting a stop to something and public humiliation." The girl with the deep red hair said, "You looked like you had done that before."

Cobin nodded. Their little group had commandeered a small table on the patio of the school cafe, or "The Spotlight" as it was so originally named, and had secured several extra chairs from the other tables so they could all sit in an uncomfortable huddle around it and stare at Cobin. "Maybe about midway through my time in the Army, I did a stint as a training NCO, or a 'Drill Sergeant,' as it's called. Basically I took people that were not soldiers and I made them into soldiers, and in the beginning stages of that process I did a lot of what you saw out in front of your arena today."

"So you were a teacher?" Weiss asked.

"Ha! Not exactly, being a Drill Sergeant is a bit different than being a teacher. Sure, you're providing someone with knowledge but really more than that you're correcting the things about them that make them inefficient as a member of a team."

"But why did you get so mad?" Ruby asked.

Cobin looked at the girl. He had to admit, there was something genuinely terrifying about her, but at the same time she managed to show an equally genuine level of concern for him. "I wasn't actually _that_ mad," he said, "sure, when I see someone being that stupid I get a bit pissed off, but not nearly as bad as I was pretending to be."

"But what's the point of all that negative reinforcement?" The red haired girl asked, her tone a bit accusing. "Punishment isn't always the answer."

"No way," Yang said, "Cardin and his little crew of weasels needed to take a beating like that."

Cobin returned his attention to the red head. "It's 'Pyrrha,' right?" he asked.

"Um, yeah," she said, a bit surprised by the question.

"Good to know, looks like I might be here awhile so I might as well start putting names to faces." Cobin said. "When training people in the military you don't really frame it in terms of 'punishment.' Instead, it's 'corrective action.' Punishment is just beating somebody down without a game plan to help them back up. In an ideal world, when you're working with a soldier who has a problem, you break down that part of him that's causing that problem and rebuild it so that he can function properly as a member of a team and do his job."

"I still don't see how what you were doing amounts to that." Pyrrha said. She didn't look upset, the girl was way too composed for that, but her tone and the way her back stood straight said otherwise.

Cobin shrugged, "I can understand that. To you I probably just looked like an angry old guy yelling at a teenager," he said. "Would you like me to explain it further?"

This guy's attitude was putting Pyrrha off her guard; he wasn't getting defensive or angry, like she might have expected. He was totally understanding, composed, and unimpeded by her accusations. He seemed like he just wanted to teach her. "Yes," she said, deciding to give him a chance.

"Even though it might just look like stupid anger there's a bit of science behind this," Cobin said, "when you're a drill sergeant you basically have this very strict set of rules that dictates how you respond to your soldiers in training. The tone is very harsh, I will admit. When you see a behavior like that, like bullying, you have to demonstrate immediately the consequences of those actions. You have to associate that behavior with pain, so later in life they don't have to associate it with death. But then, when you're done with that, you have to find a way to identify with soldiers and make the problem real in their eyes. Like that guy…"

"Cardin," Pyrrha said.

"Yeah, him. That dude is all ego, so I knew the best way to make the consequences real for him would be to relate it to how other people perceive him. The goal wasn't just to make him feel terrible about himself, it was to make him a better team player. As an instructor I don't want him to never recover from that, I want him to come back as a better person so that he contribute, because everyone has some redeeming value. And really, if nothing else I'm sure that dude can carry the ammo for everyone else." Cobin laughed, "But really, it's just a different teaching mentality. If you don't agree with it that's fine, I don't really see you as the type of person that that sort of reinforcement would work on, nor do I see you being the kind of person that would do something so destructive anyway."

"Regardless," Weiss said, "Cardin has had that coming for a long time, you should not feel at all bad about it," She hmpf'd.

Pyrrha remained silent for a minute, before saying, "I didn't mean to sound so accusing. That's just not the sort of thing we're used to here. The training we undergo is much more individualized than that of the military. I guess it was just a shock."

"Hey, we're all in shock." Cobin said, "I'm sure you haven't forgotten that we all exchanged a decent amount of ammunition less than a week. And yet here we are, having coffee." He raised his cup and winked. "Two weeks ago today, out of all the things I would have expected for myself, this would not have been on the list."

"Are you a giant lizard in human skin?!" Nora blurted out.

"Uh…"

"Nora!" Lie said, "Not an appropriate question!"

"So where were you two weeks ago?" Pyrrha asked.

Blake perked up suddenly, "Yes, I was wondering that, too."

Cobin sighed and leaned back in his chair. He looked around the table at the huddle of students, covered in weapons and armor as casually as if it were sweatpants and flip flops. "That… is also an inappropriate question," he said, "at least for right now."

Pyrrha nodded, "I understand," she said, and there was a general nod of consensus from the group, except for Blake who just gave him a very hard and disappointed look.

"Thank you," he said, ignoring the black-haired girl's glare. "You should all head to your cafeteria and actually grab something to eat before you have to go back to class. Go on." He said, softly but firmly.

The students all began to get up from their seats, and moved away from the table in a mass toward the cafeteria. All except Blake, who stood and just silently looked at him until the others were just out of earshot.

"You're not as quick with your words today. I hear a hangover will do that sort of thing to you," She said, and then turned to leave.

"Hey!" Cobin said, getting her attention. Blake stopped moving and looked back at him, but with the same disapproving look on her face. "Listen to me," he said, "I like you, I like your friends. I don't know jack shit about this world but it really doesn't seem like such a bad place. But don't, _do not_ , play this game with me. I am _not_ a teenager, I am an old ass man, so if you've got something to say to me I'd recommend you do it more directly."

"But that's just it though, you're treating us like kids." Blake said, "You've seen the way we fight, we're obviously not _unfamiliar_ with whatever you've been through. You're just assuming that, and treating us like children while at the same time trying to make a connection to us. It doesn't work like that, I won't allow it to work like that."

"I'm assuming nothing," Cobin said, "I just said that this was not the place or time." He paused, hesitant, "Do you really want to know something?" he asked.

Blake nodded, but slowly. "Yes," she said.

"There's going to be a time when I have to talk about it. I know because that's the way it always happens. There's going to come a time when I have to say everything, because if I don't I will absolutely destroy myself." He locked eyes with her, "And you want to know something else? I've been on this planet for less than seven days and I've met maybe ten people. I have no real relationships, I don't really _know_ anyone, and nobody really _knows_ me either. But out of all of those people I've met, that I've barely scratched the surface of, _you're_ probably the one I'd most likely talk to."

Blake's eyes got wide, but then normalized again, and she directed them to the ground. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Me too," Cobin said. "Now go get some lunch."

She nodded, and he watched as she ran off after her friends. When she was out of sight, he put his face in his hands and shook his head. His hangover still hadn't subsided.

…

 **Sorry I didn't get around to finishing this up yesterday. I couldn't find a good ending point for it. This chapter was like a standardized test you go into and come out of with absolutely no idea how you did on it. I've been totally wiped the past couple of days and I can't honestly tell if it's affected the quality of my writing or not. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed, and that you're still interested in sticking around for the next chapter.**

 **A couple interesting things I found out:**

 **1\. The word that Pyrrha's name is derived from, "Pyrrhic" is defined by google as "Of a victory won at too great a cost to have been worthwhile for the victor." That's what this character is named after. That should keep you up at night.**

 **2\. Yang is/was not a stripper. Okay, so I never watched the Red/Yellow/Black/White trailers before I actually started watching the show. There's this episode in the first season I think where they're investigating the whereabouts of Torchwick and Yang goes to a shady part of town to meet a guy that supposedly "knows everything," and when they get there it's a strip club and the guy who owns the place calls Yang "Blondie," a definite stripper name. Having not had the "Yellow" trailer to reference this information with, my brain made the awful assumption that she worked at the club under the name "Blondie." Does this make me a terrible person? That's for you to decide.**

 **I might miss again tomorrow, but I'm going to try and crank out three or four chapters between Thursday and Monday. Goals, goals goals.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **-Wahs.**


	9. Friends

Cobin stayed at the table on the patio long enough to finish his coffee after the students had left. When he got up, he did so slowly, pushed in his chair, and began walking in the general direction of his shop. The weak coffee from the cafe was doing nothing for him, and now that his initial burst of motivation from the morning was gone, he could feel his eyes getting heavy. Maybe now was a good time for the post-drinking laziness, he thought. Suddenly he yawned, and that only made it worse. _Okay,_ he thought, _all I have to do now is get back to my shop and get back into bed without…_

"Say! My good fellow!" A voice called from off to his right.

 _Oh shit, please please please don't be talking to me_ , Cobin cringed. He turned, and yes, to his horror there was a man who appeared to be coming straight toward him. The guy looked relatively young, maybe even Cobin's age or younger, with absolutely wild green hair and a rather unkempt look, like the speed at which he moved somehow rattled his clothes about on his body. "Uh, hello?" Cobin asked.

"Yes, you sir!" The green haired man said, stopping in front of Cobin. "My name is Doctor Bartholomew Oobleck, I'm also an instructor here at Beacon, but I don't believe we've been acquainted yet." The man's hand shot out from it's resting position at the side of his body in the most violent motion for requesting a handshake that Cobin had ever witnessed.

Hesitantly, Cobin took the man's hand and shook it. "Rockland Cobin," He said, as Doctor Oobleck jerked his arm so hard he was sure it was going to be ripped from his socket.

"Yes! Wonderful to meet you my dear boy!" Oobleck said, taking a swig from a thermos that Cobin hadn't previously noticed.

"Likewise," Cobin said, wondering how a man of such small stature could pack such a killer handshake.

"Anyway, I saw how you handled those boys out in front of the arena earlier today…"

 _Oh god, I fucked up,_ Cobin thought, _here it comes._

"...And I just wanted to say, splendid job!" Doctor Oobleck said as he slapped Cobin's shoulder enthusiastically.

Cobin was a bit surprised by this reaction, "Wha...what?" He muttered out, his tired brain having difficulty processing this.

"Yes, you did a wonderful job of teaching those boys a lesson. They're always such a constant problem in class. It's good to know that we now have some staff here that can handle the ruffians!"

"Yeah, well, you see a problem than you've gotta fix it, right?" Cobin said, only struggling minorly to maintain coherent conversation.

"Yes yes of course!" Every word the man spoke he shouted, and it drove nails into Cobin's brain. Then the man looked around, as if checking for someone before he stepped in and got just a bit uncomfortably close to Cobin. "Let me ask you this," he said, more quietly, "are you the type of man that enjoys a good drink every now and then?"

"Um," Cobin said, unsure of how to handle this, "occasionally, yes."

"Well, just between you and me," Oobleck was practically whispering in Cobin's ear at this point, "there's a good chap down at the staff cafeteria by the name of 'Manny' who provides an excellent service for those of us who require a stiff drink to get through the day every once in a while. Go and see him, and tell him 'The Good Doctor' sent you for your medicine, and I'll ensure he knows to give you something, on my tab." Then the man recoiled suddenly, startling Cobin just a bit, but he was beginning to think that this was just the way that the man moved.

"Thank you," Cobin said, not wanting to spoil the moment by informing Oobleck that he was already _very_ familiar with Manny and his 'excellent service.'

"Absolutely no problem, my good sir!" Oobleck said, shouting at his normal volume again. "Well, it's time for me to be off! See you around Mister Cobin!" and with that, the buzzy little man disappeared just as quickly as he had arrived, speed walking away faster than Cobin thought it was possible to speed-walk.

Cobin pinched the bridge of his nose, "I'm never drinking again," he said.

…

When Cobin finally made it back to the shop, he found another surprise lying in wait for him.

"Good to see you again, Mister Cobin!" The young man said from where he leaned against the company car in the driveway of the shop.

"Likewise," Cobin said as he made his way up the driveway, "Got somewhere to take me today?" he asked the driver.

The kid shook his head, "Not today, just got a bit of work for you to do." he said, patting the roof of the car.

"Oh really?" Cobin said, honestly a bit worried, "So what's the problem?"

"Brakes started making a funny noise this morning," he said, shrugging. "Pads probably just need to be replaced, but I figured I'd take it over to our resident mechanic and have you take a look at it."

"No problem," Cobin said, nodding, "That's what they pay me for, right?"

"I'd certainly hope so," the kid said, laughing. "Here," he said, as he took the keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Cobin.

"You need anything else?" Cobin asked as he caught the keys and put them in his pocket.

"Nope," The kid said, "If you need parts or anything just hit up the Resource Admin shop, they should already be logged as a contact in your scroll."

"Got it, thanks." Cobin said, moving past the young man to open the garage door.

"Well, if that's all, I think I'll be taking my leave," The kid said, "See you around!" He walked back down the driveway and turned down the street.

Cobin watched him walk away, and once he was out of earshot Cobin sighed and said, "Well, so much for that hangover nap."

Considering it was a vehicle with a possible braking problem, Cobin was careful with getting it into the shop and up onto the lift. This would be the first time he had used the contraption and he couldn't even be sure if it would work, which was troubling. Cobin had always done most his own work when it came to his cars but repairing the complicated hydraulic system that the lift operated on was beyond his expertise, and he was not a fan of the idea of suddenly causing a massive expense to the people who had so graciously taken him in after being ripped from his own reality. Thankfully though, with the press of a button the rack buzzed into life and effortlessly lifted the company car into the air. Once it was off the ground, he went to the front driver's side wheel and put his hand between the spokes to feel for the brake pad. Just as the kid had expected, it was almost entirely gone. Cobin knew from the inventory he had taken in the shop that he had a couple boxes of brake pads in the storeroom as well as some brake fluid, replacing these things would be a simple job and he could have the car back to its driver by the morning.

He put on some music and went about the job casually. In a way it was actually helping his hangover to have something to focus on, and it calmed him down immensely to have something that he could do with his hands again. As he was working, he thought a lot about the brief conversation he had with Blake over lunch. It was not like Cobin to be insecure, but he worried slightly if he had said the wrong thing. _No,_ he thought, _she wanted the burden of my truth and she got it, and I didn't even have to tell her anything._ She was right though, he was trying to make a connection to these people, maybe desperately, in fact. It was a very strange feeling for him to have; to want to know people. _The Army_ , he reasoned, _can force you to have interpersonal relationships but never really teaches you how to manage them._

With a shop, tools, and a vehicle he was unfamiliar with, it took him a couple of hours to do the pads on all four corners before he could start the process of draining and replacing the brake fluid. He was under the car, maybe a quarter of the way into this second job, when suddenly there was a loud "Thud!" that seemed to come from above him. He quickly sidestepped out from under the vehicle and looked up to see none other than Ruby Rose standing triumphantly on the top of it, smiling at him. "Hi!" She said, waving.

"Ruby!" Cobin said, panicked, "Not on the car!"

"Oh!" Ruby said, her face suddenly dropping. She hopped off and landed on the floor of the shop, next to Cobin. When she looked up at him her face was red, "Sorry…" she said, scratching the back of her head.

Cobin sighed. "No, it's no problem. Sorry I snapped." He smiled at her, "It's just that, when you're fixing something for someone else they typically want to get it back in better condition than when they gave it to you. That's part of the job." He laughed.

"Yeah, sorry." She said, smiling again. "So you're really a mechanic?" She asked, looking up at the car on the rack.

"Not really," Cobin said, looking a bit guilty, "But I know enough to pretend to be one and get away with it, and right now that's the point."

"Ahhh," She said, understanding.

Cobin put the wrench that had been in his hand down on the table next to him and put his greasy hands in his pockets. "So what's up, Rubes'?" he asked.

Ruby pouted, disapproving of this nickname. "I don't like that," she said.

Cobin gave her a big grin. "And I don't like 'Rocco.' Life is all about compromise." He said.

She stuck her tongue out at him, "Fine," she said, and then smiled. She hopped up, landing with her butt on the counter that ran along the wall of the shop with her feet dangling over the side. "I just wanted to come see how you were doing," she said.

Cobin nodded. "Still worried about seeing me so angry today?" He asked.

Ruby got a bit red again, not aware that her feelings were so transparent. "Yeah," she said, "I mean, I get mad too. But that was something else, the way you were yelling at Cardin and his team."

"Yeah, it was," he said, "but it's all just an act. That's part of what drill is about, it's just the character I played when I was training soldiers. Doesn't really mean anything."

"Maybe," Ruby said, "but something else is on your mind too."

"Maybe," he said.

"No, there definitely is," Ruby said, folding her arms and giving him a stern look, "and you should tell me, because we're friends, and friends talk to each other about that sort of thing."

Cobin sighed, "And if I don't you'll probably halve me with that scythe of yours, right?"

Ruby gave him a big, toothy grin, "Or I can shoot you," she said.

"Excellent," Cobin said, laughing, "Okay, just give me a minute to finish this up."

"No problem! I'm cool with just listening to your music for a bit," Ruby said, kicking her dangling feet back and forth to the beat coming through the shop's PA.

Cobin nodded, and pulled out his scroll, "Here, let me pick out something good," He said, selecting a certain playlist.

Ruby silently watched and listened for about the next hour while Cobin finished up his work on the car. When Cobin looked over at the girl, she was usually looking up at the ceiling with this spacey look in her eyes, probably lost in her own imagination as she listened to the music. In a weird way, she reminded him of his…

 _Nope,_ he thought, _don't think about that._

When he was done, he went over to his small mini-fridge in the washroom and grabbed a couple of sodas that Manny had given him as mixer. His hangover was gone and he sort of wanted a beer, but he made up his mind to not drink in front of Ruby. He came back into the main floor of the shop, where Ruby was smiling at him from her perch on the counter top. Cobin walked over to her and handed her the soda, before hopping up on the counter next to her.

"Cheers," Cobin said as they clinked their cans together, then taking a moment of silence to listen to the music.

" _Steppin' on my rhymes, spending all my time, writing all these lines, sometimes it's cold outside, so I bring out my coat tonight…"_

"Okay," Ruby said, "So what's really going on?" she asked, sipping the soda.

Cobin took a deep breath in, "It's complicated, and it's not your or anyone else's fault. It's just a thing," he said.

"Okay…?" Ruby said, "So what's the thing?"

"It's like…" Cobin said, taking a minute to frame it correctly, "Think about it like this; when you're born, and you see another person for the first time, that's the most depthful and meaningful relationship that you've had in your entire life, because it's the only relationship that you've had with another person, right?"

Ruby nodded, "Yeah," She said.

"And as you go through life there are some people that will get to know you, really well. Like, not who you present yourself to the world as, or who you try to appear to be, but really _know_ you, aware of who you are on a more intimate level. When you're first born, you don't need that type of relationship, because you're unaware of other people and what bonding with them means, so every relationship you have is the most important relationship of your life. But as you get older, and you start to realize that there are people that really, _really_ know you, sometimes on a scary level, that becomes really important to you. There are people that understand you, and even in the event of your death would have had an understanding of who you really were. Even when you're away from those people, just having the knowledge that they're out there comforts you."

"Yeah," Ruby said, "I know what you mean."

"Well I don't have anyone like that, not anymore," Cobin said, "Coming here, it's like being born again, but instead of being ignorant to my relationships with other people and what they mean, I'm acutely aware that nobody really _knows_ me, whatever that is. And it's a lonely feeling. Regardless of how much you, or anyone else tries to comfort me, I'm just going to feel alone for a while, until I feel like somebody knows me again." Cobin turned and gave her a slight smile, "Stupid adult stuff, right?" he said.

"No, not really," Ruby said. "It makes a lot of sense actually. I'm just sorry that you feel lonely."

Cobin noticed how sad the girl looked suddenly, and questioned his decision to unload his feelings on a teenager. "Hey," he said, patting her on the shoulder, "I'm not always going to feel that way, and every time you come in here and talk to me, it does get less lonely."

She looked up at him, "It does?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, "Anytime I get the chance to talk to you or any of your friends. It really does feel less lonely. These things just take time, is all." He smiled at her.

Suddenly, without another word the girl reached out and wrapped her arms around Cobin's trunk, and buried her face in his side. If there was one thing in the world that Cobin definitely _was not_ , it was a hugger. Something about the physical contact just made it uncomfortable for him, and he winced just a bit and froze up when Ruby embraced him so suddenly. It took him a second, but he finally snapped out of it and patted her on the head, "Hey, hey, it's okay, no need for that," he said, trying to figure out the most tactful way to reject the unwanted embrace. Thankfully though, the girl withdrew and returned to her normal sitting position.

"Hey," Ruby said, "is it cool if we just hang out and listen to music for a while longer?"

Cobin smiled at her, "That sounds great," he said.

…

That night, as Pyrrha practiced with Jaune on the roof above their room, she found herself more distracted than normal. For Pyrrha, being distracted _at all,_ especially while fighting, was highly unusual. She found herself almost entirely zoned out and simply relying on reflexes to swat away Jaune's attacks as her mind wandered back toward the soldier. When he had refused to answer her question that day, it stung her. While her position and reputation had often been a point of insecurity, she did believe herself to be an extremely competent warrior, and almost felt as though she had been dismissed by someone less knowledgable today at that cafe table. But at the same time, it had been often impressed upon her growing up that she should respect her elders, and so she had let it slide without saying anything. But she still really wanted to know.

She came out of her brain space just in time to see Jaune take another swing at her, and this time her panic reflex kicked in, and as she parried his sword out of the way she also stepped in and automatically put her elbow straight into his solar plexus, causing him to be lifted off his feet and fly a good ten or fifteen feet away from her. Once she realized what she had done she gasped. "Jaune!" she said, running to where the boy lay on his back and kneeling at his side. "Are you alright?" she asked, scared she might have hurt him.

"Ouch." Jaune wheezed, coughing a bit.

"I'm so sorry!" She said, "God I'm so stupid, I wasn't paying attention."

"If that's how well you fight when you're not paying attention, then I'd be pretty scared to see what you could do to me when you're actually trying." He said, giving out something between a cough and a laugh.

Pyrrha smiled down at Jaune. That's what she liked about him, his sense of pride never seemed to interfere with his ability to take absolutely nothing too seriously. "Here, do you think you can stand up?" She asked.

"Uh, might need another minute." he said, a rather pained look in his face. "So what's on your mind?" He asked.

Pyrrha took a deep breath in and sighed. She got down, and laid on her back next to Jaune, looking up at the stars above them. "You really want to know?" she asked.

"Yeah, of course." He said.

"It's about that soldier guy, Cobin," She said. "I just… I can't stop thinking about what has to be so secret about what happened to him before. It bugs me that he would shoot at us without thinking but not answer a simple question about where he came from."

"Maybe it's not such a simple question, Pyrrha." Jaune said. "He did say he was at war, you know."

Pyrrha turned her head and looked over at Jaune, "Yeah, but... What makes it so much worse than what we've been through? I mean, we've been fighting battles, going on missions, training…"

Jaune turned his head to look back at her. "Pyrrha, I'm not nearly as smart, or as strong, or really as good as you in any way when it comes to this stuff." He paused, taking a deep breath, "But I do know that there's a big difference between going out to fight a battle and being at war. There's no really saying what he experienced, or why he's uncomfortable sharing it. But I think we should respect that."

She turned to look back at the stars, "I guess you're right," she said.

"Plus, it's not like he just straight up said 'no,' he said that that little cafe table in the middle of the school day wasn't the place or time. And I think that's even more understandable." Jaune said.

"Okay, yeah, you're right." Pyrrha said, giving it up entirely. "It still bugs me, though."

"Hey, you're allowed to be bugged by whatever you want, just don't kill _me_ because of it," He said, managing a real laugh this time.

Pyrrha turned back to him and smiled, "Ready to go again?" She asked.

"Hell yeah!" Jaune said.

…

Blake and Sun sat on the slanted upper roof of the first year dormitory, enjoying each other's company and looking up at the night sky. It was a cool, breezy night but it was still comfortable, and since Blake had been unable to sleep she decided to invite her monkey-tailed friend for a bit of shared nighttime silence. Blake sat up a bit higher on the roof, while Sun had laid down closer to the edge just to Blake's left, so his face was just about level with her boots. Blake had taken her bow off for once and was moving her ears around consciously, stretching them out after having to keep them trapped and stationary all day.

"That's so adorable," Sun said, looking back at Blake as she did her little ear stretches.

"I _will_ kick you in the face," Blake said, looking back at him.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "But I don't think you invited me up here so that I could agitate you into violence. So what's up?"

Blake looked up at the sky, trying to decide how to keep the more incriminating details out of the story. "There's a new instructor that just arrived here from Vacuo, I think. And he bugs me."

"Yeah? So what about him bugs you?" Sun asked, trying to get a real answer out of the stubborn girl.

"He's… been around a bit. Ex military, but not like Ironwood or any of these Atlas soldier creeps. Like real military."

Sun laughed, "And so what? Is he bossing you around and making you do push ups or something?" he asked.

Blake shook her head, "No, it's nothing like that. He's just... he doesn't seem to get that we're grown up, I think he still sees us as kids, and I don't like it. But what really bugs me about it is that while I don't like it, I can't bring myself to not like _him_. He's an asshole but I feel like I should trust him."

"Ahh," Sun said, "So you found someone that you feel like you can relate to because you've also 'been around a bit,' but he's not treating you like an equal?"

Blake was honestly a bit shocked, she hadn't expected that level of analyticism to come from her goofy friend. "Yeah... I think that's it," she said.

"It makes sense, but let me ask you this," Sun said, "Does he know about everything that you've done?"

"Well, of course not," Blake said, "I couldn't risk that."

"Exactly," Sun said, "So what if he doesn't know what you've been through. You own that, so just live with him and his stupid attitude."

"It's not quite as simple as that... " Blake said.

"I'm sure," Sun smiled up at her, "Us 'lovable-asshole' types are just such frustrating people, aren't we?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling back at him, "Except you're more like a lovable doofus." She playfully nudged his shoulder with her foot.

"Ouch!" He said, "I felt that one in my _soul_."

Blake laughed, "Oh, shut up." She said.

There was silence for a moment, then Sun said, "Hey, Blake?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for inviting me up here tonight."

She blushed a bit, thankfully it was much too dark for anyone to see. "Yeah, well, thanks for being my lovable doofus." she said.

"Anytime, ma'am." He said.

…

 **Hey! Thanks for reading!**

 **I sort of want to publish a list of songs I believe would be on Cobin's playlist in this chapter. But I'm way to tired to scroll through all my music and make one, so I'll just give out a few that I think fit the vibe:**

 **-Brother Ali: "Singing This Song," "Namesake," "Only Life I Know."**

 **-Skiggy Rapz: "Steppin' On My Rhyme," (actually featured in the chapter.)**

 **-Doujah Raze- "Hardtimes."**

 **-Atmosphere- "Sunshine."**

 **Once again this is the same type of underground hip-hop/rap that I've featured in previous chapters, and if it's not your thing (which it isn't for a lot of people, I get it,) go ahead and imagine whatever you want for what Cobin played for Ruby, this is just my interpretation.**

 **Hope you all enjoyed the chapter, see you next time!**

 **-Wahs.**


	10. Counseling

"Hey man, you think I could get an STD from the chicks out here?"

" _What?_ "

"Dude, when we were doing that soft knock like a few weeks ago, and going through that village, there was definitely a guy that wanted to marry his daughter off to me, and I was thinking about it but then I was like, wait, what if she's diseased…"

"Vogels if you don't shut the fuck right now I will literally fucking destroy you." Cobin said.

"Yeah, right. You don't have the balls," Vogels retorted.

Vogels and Cobin laid next to each other on their stomachs, looking out into the desert. The platoon had set up a perimeter around the convoy while the medics patched people up and the LT slowly pulled his head from his ass and figured out how to proceed with the mission. But that could take a while, so all there was to do was stare down the barrel of his rifle into the nothingness of the desert and listen to Vogels mouth off.

"Do you know who got hit?" Vogels asked.

"Vogels I've literally been next to you this whole damn time, how the fuck would I know more than you? Sergeant said it was Groth and his squad up at the front, that's all I know."

"Yeah, but, who?"

"Holy fuck Vogels, shut up. Shut. The. Fuck. Up."

"Holy shit fine," Vogels muttered, "Fuckin' asshole."

Cobin ignored it and just focused on watching his sector of fire. He was curious himself who had taken the hit, but he tried not to dwell on it at that time, he had a job to do. They had been IED'd once before, but it was defective and most of the explosives didn't actually go off. Cobin had gotten to see the truck that had been hit up close, how even the relatively small amount of explosives had ripped it apart. The guys who had been inside were banged up, but they all lived. Something told him that this time it had been worse.

The overwhelming noise of a helicopter filled their space as the MEDEVAC bird touched down somewhere behind them, probably near the front of the convoy. It only took them a minute or so to load up, and then the bird lifted off again and left, post-haste. _I hope they got everyone out,_ Cobin thought to himself.

"Hey, it looks like everyone's heading back to their trucks," Vogels said. And sure enough, on either side of them their fellow soldiers in the platoon were breaking off from the perimeter and heading back to the convoy.

"Okay, let's go," Cobin said. And so they stood, rifles still raised toward the horizon, and headed back to their HMMWV, where Sergeant Pinkerton was already inside waiting for them. "What's the news, boss?" Cobin asked as he got in.

Pinkerton looked a little bit lost in space, staring out the window at the truck in front of them. It took him a couple of seconds to answer. "We're headed back. Gonna turn around and call it a day."

"Sounds good to me!" Vogels said.

Pinkerton nodded, "They got the trigger man."

"No shit?" Cobin asked, a bit amazed.

"Yeah, no shit. Stupid bastard was in a hole in the ground less than a hundred yards away from the detonation site, guy apparently thought he was going to have some friends to come back him up after he set the IED off. But nope." Pinkerton shook his head, "Fucking asshole."

"What's the damage, boss?" Cobin asked.

Pinkerton got quiet, the look on his face was strained, constipated almost. "Groth's whole squad," He said finally, "Every single one of them."

The inside of the truck became like a vacuum, it seemed. Nobody even noticed the constant noise of the big diesel engine anymore. They just sat silently, unsure of what to do with this information. Finally, Cobin spoke again, "Groth too?" he asked.

Pinkerton shook his head, "Tough son of a bitch is fine, he wasn't even on the bird."

"Damn," Cobin said, "Every soldier he had, really?"

Pinkerton nodded again. "Lets get the fuck out of here," He said, releasing the truck's handbrake.

" _God may hate both of us, but the devil welcomes only me…"_

…

Cobin sat straight up in bed, shocked awake and sweating. There was this incessant beeping noise coming from somewhere and in his disoriented and tired state it was really starting to piss him off. His head jerked back and forth as he looked around, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. Finally he located the source, which happened to be his scroll laying on a pile of his clothes right next to the cot. He leaned over and snatched the device, pressing the flashing diamond in the center in an attempt to shut it up. The beeping stopped, but the device opened and automatically began playing a message…

" _Good morning, Sergeant Cobin,"_ The voice of Professor Goodwitch flowed out of the device, " _Please come to my office as soon as you are able this morning. I have something I have to discuss with you. I will be in my office until lunch but the earlier we can get this done the better."_

Goodwitch was as brief and to-the-point as always, and Cobin actually appreciated that. He tossed the scroll back down onto the pile of clothes on the floor and rubbed his eyes. He felt a lot better than he had the previous morning; Ruby had stayed late enough to make it inconvenient for him to have any drinks, so he didn't have to deal with the after affects. He smiled as he thought about the previous night, how they had chatted a bit here and there but mostly had just listened to music and hung out. He wondered briefly if she had made it back alright, and then realized just how ridiculous a thought that was. He felt legitimately bad for anyone who had the gall to try and mess with the girl and that wicked scythe of hers.

He got up and went about his morning routine as usual, chuckling to himself slightly about how it had already become a routine. Normally, people wouldn't think that a week was enough time for everything that he had experienced since he got here, that it was too much life, too much change to pack into a few days. Time, he reasoned, is just a perception, like anything else. It wasn't important that only seven days had passed, but that those seven days had felt like a lifetime.

Once he was dressed and ready to go he lowered the car down off of the rack and brought it out of the shop. He parked it in the driveway and stuck the keys up in the sun visor, figuring that the kid would be smart enough to find them when he came to pick the car up. Normally, he'd want them to be more secure, but a closed campus on a mountain filled with valiant warriors in training seemed like an alright place to leave your keys in your car. Once he was finished with that, he closed the door to the shop and made his way down the street. In her message that morning, Goodwitch had provided an attachment that contained directions to her office in the primary administrative building, labeled on the map as "The Beacon Clocktower."

On his way over there, he stopped at the staff cafeteria to grab something to go, and when he stepped up to the counter, his good friend Manny was waiting there for him.

"Hey Boss," Manny said, "Our mutual friend The Good Doctor left you some prime merch here. Want me to box it up for you now?"

Cobin shook his head, "No thanks, I'm on my way to see the brass. Gotta be professional-like," he said, grabbing some fruit from the top of the counter.

"Ahhhh, gotcha," Manny said, "Come back and pick it up anytime."

"Will do," Cobin said, stepping away from the counter.

He exited the cafeteria munching on a banana and wondered to himself how bananas seemed to persist across the fabric of space and time. But there were a lot of things here like that, such as coffee, automobiles, cheap beer… the list sort of went on and on. He shook his head, pushing the thought away, knowing it would probably give him a headache after none too long. He kept walking in the general direction of the clocktower, the extremely large and looming building that marked the campus. When he actually got to its base, he paused for a minute just to take in how massive it was. He remembered that the attachment to the message from Goodwitch said her office was near the top floor, and he hoped to god that there was a working elevator.

…

Glynda Goodwitch's office was absolutely nothing like Ozpin's. As much as she respected her only real superior at the academy, she had to admit that he had a bit of a flare for showmanship. But that was to be expected at his position; the headmasters of the major combat schools were effectively as influential and powerful as General Officers in the military or the head ministers of the various departments of the government, and Ozpin needed an appropriate space to host his equals whenever they came to him for visit or counsel. But Goodwitch was not the headmaster, she was unpolitical, crass, and realistic. She believed that space should only be functional, and one only needed enough space to perform one's various functions, so even when Ozpin had offered her the other major office directly below his own, she had refused and elected for a more normal sized one a couple floors down. It was still a significant amount of space, with a very large desk as well as a conference table surrounded by chairs where she could hold meetings between herself and the other staff members. But it was also lined with thick filing cabinets, and only really provided enough floor space necessary for one to move between the various functional points in the room. Not a single square inch was wasted. To some it may have seemed cluttered, but Goodwitch's entire life was often 'cluttered,' so she really never noticed.

She was just finishing typing out her normal morning email to the staff and faculty when the direct line on her desk began buzzing. She hit the "Accept Call" key and quickly stated "Professor Goodwitch speaking, how may I help you?"

"That guy you've been waiting for, Cobin, is here," the voice of her secretary said through the speaker.

"Good, send him up," Goodwitch said.

"Right away, ma'am," the secretary said.

Goodwitch hit the "End" button. She very rarely bothered with proper goodbyes when it came to calls and messages that were not face-to-face. She gave her mass email a once-over for errors before hitting the send button, and then turned and watched the door at the other end of the room, waiting patiently for the soldier to come through. After a few seconds, she heard a knock on the door, which surprised her as she half expected the man to simply plow through it, maybe tripping over himself as he did so. "Come in," she said.

Cobin came through the door and closed it behind himself. "Good morning," He said, nodding to Goodwitch.

"To you as well, Sergeant," Goodwitch said. "Please, come have a seat," she said, beckoning him forward.

Cobin made his way around the conference table and pulled one of the chairs from it as he did so, bringing it up to the desk so that he could sit across from Goodwitch. When he sat, he sat up straight, and looked her in the eye. Goodwitch liked that.

"So, what seems to be the problem?" Cobin asked.

"Nothing," Goodwitch said, "It's been a week, hasn't it?"

"Yep," Cobin said, nodding, "It's been a long week, though."

"I can imagine," Goodwitch said. "I'll be blunt, the fact of the matter is, is that we can't exactly evaluate what stresses you might be going through, seeming to have been ripped from one world to the next, nor can we really evaluate what makes our world different from yours. We can't point to case studies or research papers or past events that might indicate to us your psychological state, despite the fact that you appear very stable. Me and some of the other top staff here at the academy that know of your exact situation have come the conclusion that you should submit to counseling in order assist you in coping with your new life here, as well as to evaluate whether or not you pose a threat to the education of our students. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Cobin said, without hesitation, "I understand and I will submit to counseling. I'm not exactly in any position to protest and I can't really think of a reason I would, so why not."

"That's very good to hear," Goodwithch said, "As I'm sure you can understand, while this institution is interested in your well being, our primary mission will always be to educate and train our students. If we can't care for you and continue on with our mission, then I'm sorry to say that you will find yourself in a very difficult position, Sergeant."

Cobin nodded, "I understand completely. Who will be counseling me?" he asked.

"I have elected to do that myself," Goodwitch said, "I'm one of the only top staff here at the school with experience in counseling, I know you better than all of the other staff thus far, and it keeps the number of people who have knowledge about your true origin at a bare minimum." Goodwitch pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Do you have any concerns or complaints at this time?" she asked.

"No," Cobin said, "When do we get started?"

"Right now," Goodwitch reached down below her desk and pulled up several sheets of paper, laying them out in front of her, "The first thing I've decided needs to be evaluated is the loss that you might have felt due to coming here," she said, "It's reasonable to assume that any family you may have had back on your home world probably feel deceased to you now, as it is reasonable to assume that you may never see those people again. Is there anyone that comes to mind?" she asked.

Cobin leaned back in his chair, "Not really," he said, "Parents have been gone for several years, they were both heavy smokers. I have sisters I was close to but I hadn't really seen in quite a long time. No spouse to speak of."

"Any children?" Goodwitch asked.

Cobin paused, and looked down and to the side before saying simply, "No."

Goodwitch sighed and leaned onto her desk, looking hard at him, "Sergeant Cobin I assure you that I'm just as adept at detecting lies as you are."

Cobin brought his gaze back up and met her eyes, "Look, I don't have any kids. Really, I don't have… fuck," he said shaking his head. "Okay, fine. I had a daughter," he said.

Goodwitch nodded. " _Had_? Sergeant Cobin?"

"Yeah," he said, looking at the ceiling. "It's a complicated situation."

"Well, now is the time to explain it." Goodwitch said, not having any of Cobin's bullshit.

Cobin suddenly looked very uncomfortable, and shifted a bit in his chair, but after a second or so he began to speak again. "I got married and had a kid really young," he said, "My wife was two months pregnant when I went off to basic training for the army, less than three months after I graduated from high school. I wasn't even eighteen yet, almost, but not quite." Cobin pinched the bridge of his nose momentarily before continuing. "She had the kid, a little girl that we named Ival, several months after I was out of training. I had ten months with her, just us and our big happy family, or so I thought. Ten months after she was born I got deployed for the first time. It was long, and it was hard, maybe even more so for her in some ways. When I finally got back there wasn't even a conversation, she wanted a divorce." He looked up at Goodwitch, "Is the picture coming together yet?" he asked.

Goodwitch nodded, "Yes," she said, "but please, finish the story."

"Okay," Cobin said, "Well, because I was young, and I was dumb, and I didn't know anything about law or how the court system worked, I ended up losing all of my visitation rights in the divorce. I wasn't legally permitted to see my own daughter, and my ex wife didn't want me too." Cobin closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the sad times, "Less than a year after the divorce was finalized she was married the guy that she had been cheating on me with while I was deployed, and ever since, he's raised Ival." Cobin gave Goodwitch a sheepish half-smile. "So you see, when you ask me if I have children, it's a difficult question for me to answer. Is there a child wandering around somewhere back in my world with half of my DNA? Yes. Do I have a daughter? No, not really." He said.

"I'm very sorry," Goodwitch said, "That must have been very difficult for you."

"Yeah, well. It was almost ten years ago. Time might not heal all wounds but it certainly numbs you to them."

Goodwitch nodded, "Agreed," she said. She took a moment to look at her papers and organize them on her desk, "Are you okay with moving on to another topic?" she asked after several seconds.

"Definitely," Cobin said.

"Alright then," Goodwitch started, "So, the next thing I think we need to do is really evaluate the fundamental differences between our world and yours. There are some that are obviously already well-established, but what have you noticed or discovered so far in your time here?"

"Well, the whole thing Auras and Semblances is very different from anything we have where I'm from. On earth the notion of a 'soul,' is exactly that, a notion, more of a concept than something real and physical in any way. And no extra powers either, people are pretty much just boring old people." He looked up at the ceiling again, thinking, "Dust is also something that we don't have."

"Really?" Goodwitch asked, curious.

"Yeah, I mean, my understanding is that Dust is more or less a group of highly reactive elements or chemical compounds that can be harnessed as weapons or sources of energy, and we have things sort of like that, like radioactive or nuclear materials, but nothing so usable and efficient on a small scale like your Dust seems to be." Cobin said.

"Very interesting," Goodwitch said, "Anything else that comes to mind?"

"Yeah," Cobin said, "Everyone keeps mentioning something about 'Grimm' to me, but nobody seems to have been willing to explain it. So what is Grimm?" he asked.

Goodwitch paused, and just stared at Cobin for a minute. "Grimm," she said, turning to her computer, "Is a sort of slang, or half-speak term for 'The Creatures of Grimm,' which are the very reason all of the students you see here at this school train so hard everyday, and have been doing so for most of their lives. They are the reason why we live in fear, and are unable to expand our borders." Goodwitch turned her computer toward Cobin, and there, displayed on the screen was a depiction of a giant, bear-like creature, all black with a white mask-like face.

"What in the hell is that thing?" Cobin asked.

"A very basic type of Grimm," Goodwitch said, "They don't sleep, they don't even eat. They appear to exist only to destroy us, and have been here for as long as we have, perhaps longer. They fill our entire world outside the borders of the four kingdoms, and attack us constantly. They are drawn to us by our own fear, anger, and other negative emotions. They can literally smell them, so even if you can successfully repel one, your fear and hatred will only bring more to you." Goodwitch turned her computer back toward her, and then looked at Cobin, "Is there anything like that in your world?" she asked him.

"No," Cobin said, "Absolutely nothing that I can even compare too."

Goodwitch looked genuinely surprised. "Really?" she asked.

Cobin nodded, "Yeah, where I come from, people cover every corner of the globe that isn't water. There's nothing to stop us."

"With all do respect, Sergeant, if that's so, then why in the world would your society need a soldier of your caliber?" She asked him.

Cobin sighed, "Well, 'my society,' as you call it, is highly divided," he said, "when I say that there's nothing that compares to your Grimm from my world, I very literally mean _nothing_ , not even on an ideological level. I'm sure that there's a very real extent to which this world's struggle against the Grimm is unifying. On my world, ever since there were two people that wanted to occupy the same space at the same time, they've been trying to kill each other. Where I'm from, there has never once been a point in human history where our race has been entirely without war, so naturally we got pretty damn good at it after a while."

"But what do you even have left to fight about after all that time?" Goodwitch asked, genuinely rather shocked by this information.

Cobin actually laughed. "Literally anything," he said, "People believe different things, they get pissed off at each other, then they go to war. There is no one singular belief held by everyone, like there is on this world, and so in a way there is no truth; nothing that unites us as a race." Cobin took in a deep breath, and let it go slowly, "Where I'm from, specifically where _I'm_ from on my planet, there's this very real sense in which you get to go through your everyday life actively choosing what's real and what's fiction to you. You can pick a reality that you like, and box yourself into it in such a complete way that you very rarely have to come in contact with the the world at large and it's struggles, and even when you do come into contact with it, it generally feels so far away that it's like it could never really affect you."

Goodwitch stared at him like he had Grimm crawling out of his ears. "That sounds... awful," She said.

Cobin smiled, "Hey, pick your poison. Would you rather live in the constant presence of absolute struggle, or in a life completely devoid of intrinsic value and absolute purpose?" Cobin laughed again, "Where I'm from, most people would pick the latter."

Goodwitch was silent for a moment, before saying, "And what about you, Sergeant? Which world appeals to you more?"

"To be honest, it was getting a little old," Cobin said, "Life at home, even before I joined the Army, always seemed a bit like a fiction to me. And at first, when I was deployed and fighting, it felt real, like I was really doing something with myself. But as the years went on and we just kept fighting, and every time I went over there it continued to not get any better, it sort of started to feel like a fiction, too." He said, looking down, "I tried not to think about it too much, but there was a very real sense in which it felt like it didn't matter how strong I was, or how good of a soldier I was, because I existed in an entirely fictional world, and no matter what I did at war or anywhere else, none of it seemed to mean anything, really."

Goodwitch, for the first time that morning, actually offered him a half-smile, "Maybe that's why you're here," she said.

Cobin looked up and met her eyes, returning her smile, "Maybe," He said, "Maybe it is."

…

 **Hooah, folks. Less than two weeks later and we're ten chapters in and have just passed 40,000 words! That's right, we're officially "Novel Length."**

 **And I still have no goddamn idea where this is going.**

 **Somewhere in the next couple chapters there will be more exploration of Weiss, who is a character I have largely left untouched due my doubts about my ability to write her correctly. She's really the only one I have a problem getting into the head of. I think a big part of this comes from how reserved and unemotional her character already is in the show. Maybe I'll just read her wiki page a couple of times until inspiration comes to me like when the acid starts to hit.***

 **Other than that, I need a RWBY cannon expert to inform me on exactly how the students manage to travel so seamlessly from Beacon into Vale proper. In the first or second episode there's this scene with Ruby and Yang riding into Beacon for the first time on this big, slow-moving, wofty airship, which seems highly inconvenient when they just want to go hang out in town after school or something. Do they just hop in a car and take the touge down the mountain or something (bad inside joke for any Initial D fans who are reading)?**

 **Catch you on the flip-side!**

 **-Wahs.**

 ***I don't actually do acid, don't call the police.**


	11. Connected

When Cobin exited the Clock Tower, the walk back to his shop suddenly seemed very long. It felt as though him and Goodwitch talked for a very long time, and Cobin found himself emotionally exhausted. He really didn't have any protest to undergoing counseling, or revealing these things to Goodwitch, but it didn't make it any less difficult to talk about. Also, Goodwitch herself was terrifying in the way she simply seemed to be able to extract information from him like a book she was reading. He figured it must have come from years and years of teaching and purveying over teenagers. And when the meeting was over, she had just turned to her computer and seamlessly transitioned into working on something totally unrelated, there was no coffee or taking a minute to gather her thoughts, her brain was already halfway into her next task for the day before he even got out the door. Cobin shook his head, _Every woman on this planet is terrifying,_ he thought.

He sighed, stuck his hands in his pockets and made his way down the path leading away from the clocktower. There were students milling about in the plaza, studying or chatting with one another, but always in groups of at least two. It was a space that seemed devoid of introversion, except for one. On the far end of the plaza, away from the Clock Tower, the girl with platinum-blond hair that Cobin had always seen with Ruby's group sat alone, reading a book.

Cobin stopped, because there was just something off about the scene. In his time as a member of the Special Forces community, he had been given the opportunity to take courses such as "Combat Tracking," and "Combat Hunter," which more or less boil down to high-level and specialized situational awareness training. A basic hypothetical situation that might be presented in one of these courses might be something along the lines of: _You're in a crowded market square, and in this market square there is a vender that absolutely no one approaches, and one that everyone seems to stop at. What does this mean?_

The platinum-haired girl had this space around her, this border that nobody seemed to want to cross, but all of the groups of people who sat on or near this border seemed acutely aware of her. They whispered instead of speaking loudly and laughing, like the closer you got to her the more the space became like a vacuum. Also, for someone who was trying to relax and read a book, she looked very tense; her back was straight, and despite the fact that her legs were crossed, they were positioned in such a way that would be optimal if she needed to suddenly launch upward from her seated position. She also just looked generally… uncomfortable, in some deeper indescribable way. Cobin was tired, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he walked over to her.

"Good morning," he said, stopping a pace or two away from where the girl sat.

The girl looked up, maybe a bit surprised but not startled. "Oh, it's you," she said, sounding sort of annoyed.

"Yep, it's me," Cobin said, ignoring the girl's tone of voice.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Well that's a pretty broad question," Cobin said, deciding to dish back a bit of sass of his own, "I'm here at this school because I live here, I'm here in this plaza because I just got finished with a meeting at the Clock Tower. But as to why I'm here on this world, your guess is as good as mine," he said, smiling at her.

She scowled slightly at him, "No, I mean-"

"Why am I standing in front of you right now?" he said, cutting her off. Cobin was polite but he believed very deeply in treating others in the exact way that they treated him. If this girl was going to try and out-bitchy him, she was going to have a very bad day.

" _Yes,_ " She said, scowling a bit more now.

"It's because you look fucking miserable," Cobin said, going for the blunt approach.

The scowl quickly became a look of genuine surprise, "What… what do you mean?" she asked.

"Are you somebody's daughter or something?" Cobin asked, ignoring her question.

The girl diverted her eyes, looking down and away from Cobin's gaze. "Everyone is somebody's child," she said.

"You know what I meant," Cobin said, "You come from a different kind of blood than most people here do, don't you?"

The girl looked back up at him, and actually chuckled a bit, "I keep forgetting that you're really not from here at all," She said.

"You're right, I'm really not," Cobin said.

"You know," the girl said, "No offense or anything but it really annoys me how everyone around me is suddenly so obsessed with you, as if you're important or something," She put her book down and folded her arms, a look of smugness coming over her face, "We're training to do something that our entire world hinges on, we have to study and work ridiculously hard, and suddenly none of that matters because this new soldier guy is _just so fascinating,_ " she said.

Cobin shrugged, "I don't get it either," he said.

The smugness went away quickly, "Excuse me?" she said.

"I said I don't understand it either," Cobin folded his arms as well, returning the gesture, "I don't think I'm important, I'm just some old grouchy dude who fell out of the sky. What I do know that is my entire life is now more or less at the mercy of a very generous principle and eight of his students who all could probably rip me limb from limb with their pinky fingers." Cobin smiled at her, "And yet for some reason, they haven't. Despite the fact that I am a _massive asshole_."

"Yeah," the girl said, "So what does any of that have to do with me?"

"It has everything to do with you," Cobin said, "Believe it or not, I do actually _care_ about you people. There's a lot of shitty things you all could have done to me but you haven't, it's been quite the opposite in fact. So I want to know why you're the only person in this plaza sitting alone, and why all of these other people seem to be acting like you are surrounded by an invisible wall or something."

Whatever mask the girl had been wearing for the entire conversation seemed to drop from her face. She frowned slightly, maybe sad but also possibly indifferent. "Are you aware of the Schnee Dust Company?" She asked him.

"I've been here for a week," Cobin said, "I'm still just trying to find a McDonald's."

"A what?"

"Nevermind. So, the Schnee Dust Company?"

"Yes," the girl said, "my family owns it. We're one of the biggest Dust companies in all of the four kingdoms. We bring it all the way from the mines into the storefronts. It's sort of a big deal," She said.

"I can imagine," Cobin said, "So all of these other students are…"

"Afraid, jealous, angry… take your pick," the girl said, "They don't want to have anything to do with me and I don't want to have anything to do with them. That's our relationship."

"What about Ruby and them?" Cobin asked.

"That's different," she said, "They're my teammates."

"But they're more than that, too. Right?" Cobin asked.

The girl got quiet again, she shifted about on the bench, uncomfortable. "Yes," she said finally. "But…"

Cobin held up his hand, stopping her from saying anything else. "What's your name again?" he asked.

"Weiss," She said, "Weiss Schnee."

"Rockland Cobin," He said, "But your friends seem to have taken a liking to the nickname 'Rocco,' so I guess that works too," he smiled at her.

Weiss looked up at him, "Mister Cobin?" She asked.

"Yes?"

"Did you really come over here just to see if I was alright?" she said. Her facial expression showed little emotion, but demanded an honest answer.

"Yes," Cobin said, "And if you ever want to read somewhere not surrounded by all these prying eyes, you're welcome into my shop. The front door is normally closed but all of your friends seem to have little trouble getting in through the skylight, so feel free. Anytime." He said. Weiss nodded in response, maintaining eye contact as she did. She didn't say anything, but Cobin half expected that; handing out 'thank you's' didn't seem to be in the girl's nature. "Alright then, I'll be on my way," Cobin said. He stuck his hands back in his pockets and turned, walking away from her, "See you around," he said over his shoulder.

…

Weiss watched the man walk away, eye's locked onto him like a homing beacon. The conversation had been very disarming for Weiss. The girl, ever since she was little, had treated conversation like a competition, an attitude possibly derived from her family's many years of business dealings and boardroom meetings. To her, even if it wasn't an argument of any kind, there was always someone who had the upper hand while conversing, and someone always walked away on top, no matter how pleasant and non-confrontational the topic. Weiss made it her business to _never_ be the one to 'lose' the conversation, but she just had. In fact, she hadn't just lost it, she had lost is catastrophically, entirely. The man had broken through every single one of her defenses in less than five minutes. Then, finally, when they had reached the end, he had shown her only kindness. Weiss felt like it should terrify her, but she didn't feel that way. In fact, she felt…

Well, she didn't really know what she felt.

Weiss shook her head and picked up her book from where it sat next to her on the bench, and attempted to continue reading. She was suddenly very aware of just how uncomfortable she had been, sitting alone in the plaza, and only got through about half a page before it became to distracting to deal with. She let the book fall into her lap and looked up at the big blue Vale sky. She only had maybe forty or so minutes before lunch was over and her next class started, it didn't make sense to relocate now. But…

 _Oh to Dust with it,_ she thought. And with that, she picked up her things, and left.

…

When Cobin returned to his shop, there was already more work waiting for him. In the driveway sat what appeared to be a utility van, probably used by the resident plumbers or engineers. On the driver's side window was as sticky note that stated simply " _Tire rotation/coolant/oil."_ Cobin figured he could handle that, and brought the van in and up onto the lift. Despite the fact that it allowed his guests to literally drop in on him without notice, Cobin actually liked the skylight a lot. It was well designed and around midday provided enough natural light for him to work without having to waste electricity. The beams of sunlight powered in from above him in streams, catching a bit of dust that hung in the air as they came in. With the sunlight, and the work to do, and the music playing, it was all sort of peaceful…

" _I was the guy you once knew as a jerk,_

 _who made records on the side now I do it as work._

 _So you BET that I take pride in throwin' you in the dirt_

 _You would too, if you knew what it's worth…"_

His mind wandered back to Weiss and whether or not he had handled that correctly. He was brief, more brief than he would have been normally but at the time it felt right. He said what was on his mind, and left the girl to her own devices. Weiss had been the one that he was still most distant from after his week here on this planet, and it had felt like a missing piece. His picture of this world was still new and incomplete, but the puzzle felt like it was more-together than before.

While he was still busy removing the first wheel, there was suddenly an all-too-familiar thudding noise from above him. _Oh god not again,_ he thought, stepping back and looking up. Sure enough, there on the roof of the van stood Weiss, looking down at him. "Hello," she said, rather quietly.

"The car," Cobin said.

"What?"

"You're on the car," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, sorry." The girl said, jumping off. And in much the same way that Ruby had, she landed next to him on the floor of the shop more gracefully than the laws of physics should have allowed. What made it even more impressive than when Ruby did it, was that Weiss managed to do it in heels.

"So," Cobin said, "Feel free to sit and read anywhere you want. It's not immaculately clean in here but the door is open so there's fresh air at least."

"Actually," Weiss said, "The book seems rather uninteresting now."

"Hmm?"

"So you really have no idea how you got here, or why?" Weiss asked.

Cobin shook his head, "Nope, I'm just as confused as everybody else."

Weiss nodded, accepting this answer. "So why do you _think_ you're here?"

Cobin shrugged, but how troubled he was by the question was obvious on his face. "I wish I knew," he said. "I feel like I have something I could contribute here. But I don't know why, or how, or what. But it feels like it hinges on you, and Ruby, and Pyrrha, and the rest of them."

"Like a calling?" she asked him.

"Maybe," Cobin said, sighing, "It feels like maybe it's my connection to the universe. If that makes any sense."

Weiss nodded again, "I have to get to class," She said.

Cobin nodded, "Makes sense, it is the middle of the school day."

Weiss walked past him, and toward the door. As she exited, she called back at him "Hang in there, Rocco, it's only been a week."

Cobin smiled, chuckling to himself. "Yes," he said "only a week."

…

Despite her little detour, Weiss made it to Oobleck's history class comfortably early, which was good because it was going to take her a minute to get her mind refocused for the task at hand. The rest of the team was already there, as usual. The sisters were laughing and giggling about something or other, and Blake was quietly going over her notes, but she did offer a smile every time the other two girls said something especially entertaining. The world seemed… at peace. Weiss made her way over to her teammates and sat down with them.

She opened her book again and began reading, but after a few seconds she suddenly said, "Okay, I'm on board with helping out the soldier guy." Suddenly Ruby and Yang were silent and Weiss felt eyes on her. Sure enough, when Weiss looked up from her book, the three other girls were staring at her. "What?" She asked.

"Uh… you weren't already on board?" Ruby asked.

Weiss sighed, "I mean, I guess I was. But now I'm… affirmative about it," she said.

"So what changed?" Blake asked.

Weiss closed her book, it was reasonable to assume that she just wasn't going to get any further into it that day. "I don't know," she said, "I just think he's going to be important somehow."

Yang nodded. "It's a weird feeling, isn't it? But I feel like that too."

"I mean, he's sort of already improved things," Blake said, "Cardin actually helped Velvet pick up her books when she dropped them this morning while leaving class. I think Cobin actually managed to get it through his head that he can't just be an ass to everyone."

"His names Rocco!" Ruby said.

"Girls! Are you talking about that new military chap?" The presence of Oobleck was upon them so swiftly and suddenly that they all recoiled a bit, and Blake almost fell out her chair. "He's a fine instructor if I do say so myself!"

"Uh… Yeah," Ruby said. _I didn't even notice him come into the room,_ she thought. "So you've met him?"

"Why yes!" Oobleck exclaimed, "We had a pleasant little chat down near the cafe. I must say though, the man has to work on his handshake." Oobleck sipped from his thermos.

"So what do you think of him Prof… I mean Doctor?" Weiss asked

"Well I think he's a splendid addition to our staff here at the academy," Now Oobleck paused, seeming to think for a moment, "But his clothes are rather awful."

 _You're one to talk,_ thought all of the four girls simultaneously.

"Say!" Oobleck said, throwing his hands out to them, "All you young folks seem to be up-and-up with the latest fashions! If you're already so well acquainted why don't you take him out on the town and get him some work clothes fit for this institution!"

"That's... actually not a bad idea," Yang said. She turned her head to look at her teammates and they all seemed to nod in agreement.

"Well, class must be on time!" Oobleck said, "But keep me informed on how that chap is doing, I'm very interested!" he said, before zooming over to his desk to begin arranging his paperwork.

Ruby turned to her teammates, "Alright, team. Operation 'Dress Code,' lets do it."

"Hell yeah!" Yang said, grinning. Weiss and Blake just nodded their approval of the idea.

"This… is gonna be awesome," Ruby said.

…

 **Damn, so this one really is a day late and a dollar short. I passed out on top of my laptop last night after just the first paragraph of this chapter, and this is all my brain could churn out today. I'm excited about the next couple of chapters, but they might come a bit slower than they have been up to this point, so I hope that doesn't cause anyone to lose interest. I think this chapter was so difficult because Weiss is just a hard character to write for me, just thinking about her and trying to get into her head makes me tired. So, the chapter that focuses on her is brief, and for that I apologize.**

 **Mom's Spaghetti: Don't worry, it will come back.**

 **Thanks to everyone who commented with their speculations on my question about the cannon, I'll be taking it all into consideration moving forward.**

 **I hope you're all excited for 'Operation Dress Code!"**

 **-Wahs.**


	12. Fraternization

"Ruby, the inter-dimensional super-soldier is not a puppy, you can't just take him on walks and put frizzy sweaters on him," Ozpin said, staring down the four members of team RWBY that stood before his desk.

The girl's face dropped instantly, all of her hopes and dreams shattering before her eyes. "But… but," Ruby said.

"What she's trying to say," Weiss said, stepping in, "Is that as a member of the staff here on campus we think he could benefit from a more respectable wardrobe. He's already become a pretty visible member of the community here," she said.

"Yeah!" Yang said, "We just think that people would take him more seriously if he had some real clothes, you know?"

"My understanding is that his appearance does not hinder people from taking him seriously," Ozpin said, "I think your classmate, Cardin, could attest to that."

"We want to help him," Blake said, taking a different approach, "He's completely new to this world, and we think it would be healthy for his adjustment if he got a chance to actually _see_ our world, and dress like a normal person."

Ozpin sighed and shook his head. It was in his power to simply say 'No' and kick the four of them out of his office, and all logic told him that he should, but there was something else that pressured him to give in. "Look," he started, "His registration as a citizen of Vale hasn't come through yet. I'm pulling some strings to get it fast-tracked, but it's still going to be a couple more days. Until he's registered, being outside of this campus could be extremely dangerous for him. Being undocumented is an unfortunately serious crime." Ozpin cleared his throat, "That being said, once his registration is through... there's nothing that I can really do to keep him here."

"Is that a 'yes'?" Ruby beamed.

"Take it as you will," Ozpin said, " _But,_ I'm not the one you should worry about convincing. Have you girls even presented this idea to him?"

Suddenly they all looked very sheepish and nervous, "Um, not exactly," Yang said, scratching the back of her head.

"That's what I thought," Ozpin said, "It might be more prudent for you to speak to him about this, rather than _me_."

"Got it, Professor! Thank you," Ruby said, "Alright team, let's go."

As they began to walk away, Ozpin called for them again. "Ruby," He said, and waited for the girl to turn back around, "When his registration is complete, you'll be the second person to know, alright?"

Ruby smiled at him, "Thank you again, professor!"

Once the girls were in the elevator, Ozpin took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "Oh, the things I get myself into," he said.

…

It had been a slow morning for Cobin. The midday of the midweek seemed to be dragging on, and there was no work in site. He had spent the morning at the gym, eaten lightly, and now stood out on his driveway, facing the street with his arms folded waiting for life to smack him in the face with something, _anything._ He was on his second pot of coffee and it probably wasn't for the better, as the caffeine wasn't doing anything but giving him more energy he had no way to expel.

"You know, you always stand like that," A voice said from behind and above him.

Cobin turned around to see Yang looking down at him from the roof of the shop. "Well, good morning to you too," he said, "And what do you mean, 'you always stand like that'?"

Yang jumped from the roof and landed in front of him. "Like this. You put your feet about shoulder's width apart, cross your arms, and then frown like you're really mad something," she said, acting out this pose as she described it.

"No I don't!" He said, "I don't _always_ look pissed off."

"I mean, you sort of do," Yang said. She punched him playfully in the shoulder, "But don't be too offended, it fits you."

"Umm… thank you?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"So, how's your day going?" she asked him.

Cobin shrugged, "Can't complain so far, just wish there was more work to do," he said.

"Well, if you want you can do my homework for me," Yang said.

Cobin laughed, "I think there's probably some kind of policy against that."

She laughed too, "So what're you doing _after_ work?" she asked.

"Uhh…" Cobin suddenly became apprehensive, his common sense was tingling, "I don't know… go to bed? There's not a whole lot I can do."

"Maybe," Yang said, "But that could change if you had real clothes to wear."

Cobin blinked at her, "... What?" he said, unsure of how to respond to that.

"Oh, come on!" Yang said, poking him in the chest, "Wouldn't you feel so much better if you could, like, change into something that wasn't that plain old work uniform? Something more… _with the trend?_ "

"No," Cobin said, flatly.

The smile dropped from Yang's face, "Really?" she asked, raising her eyebrows and giving him the once over.

"Look, I don't know what this is about," Cobin said, taking a step back, "But it feels like it might be getting a bit… inappropriate."

Yang's face turned bright red, "What? Oh, um… no! Of course not!" She looked around for a way out, "Sorry, gotta get to class! Bye!" And with that she spun around and jumped back up on the roof, and then proceeded to run in the opposite direction.

Cobin watched this with wide eyes. "That… that was fucking weird," he said, thinking out loud. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Everything about this place is fucking weird."

…

Later on in the day, after school was over for the students, Cobin had wandered into one of their common areas between the academic buildings and had happened upon a group of students throwing rocks at each other. The rocks were decorative and meant to act as the bed to small areas within the common area where trees were planted, but the students were getting them everywhere and all over the concrete walkways. He had confronted them, and corrected them quickly and efficiently. Now, he sat and watched from a bench as they painstakingly separated the rocks into "less grey" and "more grey."

"You waste this institution's time, I waste your time," he shouted at them as they worked.

"You know, they'd probably take you more seriously if you dressed better."

Cobin turned suddenly to see Blake standing next to where he sat on the bench. "Uh… I think they're already taking me pretty seriously," he said.

"But I bet they didn't at first. I mean, you aren't really dressed like an instructor," she, gazing at the miserable students performing their punishment.

"They definitely did, though." Cobin said.

Blake suddenly looked distressed, but didn't turn toward him, "Look, all I'm saying is that it would have gone better if you had like, a nice button down, and some good pants. Maybe some shoes that weren't combat boots," she said.

"What? What's wrong with combat boots?" Cobin asked, getting a bit flustered.

Blake finally turned to him, suddenly seeming exasperated, "Nothing's wrong with combat boots!"

"Good!" He said. The two of them simply locked eyes in silence for a good ten seconds, glaring at each other. Then Cobin shook his head, "Jesus..." he said. Then he turned to the students he had corrected and shouted "Alright, you're done! Run the hell away before I change my mind." And with that, they all immediately dropped whatever rocks they were carrying and sprinted out of the common area with such a swiftness that most of the oxygen probably went with them.

"I still think you would look more professional in something else," Blake said.

Cobin put his face in his hands, "Sweet mother of god," he said, looking up, "I like my clothes. They're fine. They work. I'm not job hunting. Thank you for your opinion," He said, giving her the knife hand.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help," Blake said, taking an extra sassy pose.

"Yes, but help me with _what_?"

There was another long pause as Blake reached for an explanation that wouldn't reveal her true intent, "I don't know… maybe there's someone you're trying to impress?"

And with that, Cobin stood up very suddenly, "Thank you, but no thank you! Have a nice night! Talk to you later!" he said, turning in the opposite direction and walking away.

"Hey, wait! I'm sorry!" Blake called after him, but made no attempt to follow. Once he was out of sight, she just shook her head, "Oh man, I messed that up," she said.

…

Cobin had decided that the best course of action at this point was to simply make his way quickly back to his shop. The day had already been more interesting than he would have liked and he figured the quicker he could get back and wrap his brain around a cold one the better. There weren't a whole lot of students out anymore, with some mingling bodies hanging out in the dying light of the evening, but for the most part it was peaceful. _Oh well,_ he thought, _the people are crazy but the sky is nice._

Just as he was getting close to the main dining hall for the students, he spotted a figure he recognized up ahead of him. It was Weiss, walking toward him but seemingly unaware, with her face buried in a book again. When they got within one or two paces of each other, Cobin said "Good evening, Weiss," and offered a smile.

The Stoic girl stopped and looked up from her book at him, and he ceased moving forward as well as they locked eyes. Weiss gave him a quick once-over, much like the other three girls had done, and then flatly stated, "You look homeless."

"Wha... _huh?"_ Cobin said, his face simply warping into confusion. But Weiss was already enthralled with her reading again, and walking away. "Wait! Tell me what this is about!" Cobin shouted at her, but to no avail. The girl simply walked off and into the setting evening sun.

Cobin put his hands behind his head and looked up toward the orange sky, "Sweet mother of god, what is going on?" he said to no one but himself. It took him a minute, but he shook it off and kept moving toward his shop. He decided he would need more than one beer.

…

Normally, while he was in the shop, Cobin would have left the garage door open so he could enjoy the fresh air and the natural light at the end of the day. But, on this day, he simply closed it behind him as soon as he came in. He knew that if anyone really wanted to get in they could just as easily go through the skylight, so closing the garage door was really more of a symbolic gesture to the universe, as if to say, 'I'm not taking any more of your shit.' It was time to crank the stereo and crack open the booze, so he put on something a bit more heavy than what he would have normally prefered for that time of day and found a nice spot on the floor of the shop where he could sit with his back against the door and drink.

" _She's got stickers on her locker,_

 _and the boy's numbers there in magic marker,_

 _I'm hungry and the hunger will linger,_

 _I eat sixteen saltine crackers than I lick my fingers…"_

No sooner had he opened his first beer, a bright red hood dropped from above onto the floor in the middle of the shop. The girl was facing away from him, toward the back of the shop, and looked from side to side before finally turning all the way around and seeing Cobin there, on the floor, up against the garage door. "Hey Rocco!" she said.

Cobin paused for a moment, and looked longingly down at the opened beer in his hand. After a moment he sighed, put the cold one down, and looked back up at her. "Let me guess," he said, "It has something to do with my clothes?"

Ruby's complexion suddenly resembled the color of her hood, "Oh, um…" She stuttered, "So… who got to you first?" she asked.

"All of them," Cobin said, "And all in their own unique way."

"Oh, Jeez," Ruby said. The girl walked across the floor of the shop, and stopped in front of him. "Was it… Bad?" she asked.

Cobin raised his eyebrows at her, "You have no idea," He said. He patted the empty floor space next to him, "Come, have a sit. Let's talk about this."

Ruby nodded, and moved to sit in the spot Cobin had indicated. As she did, Cobin pulled out his scroll and turned the volume on the music down to a low background buzz for the conversation.

"So," Cobin said, once Ruby had made herself as comfortable as possible on the hard concrete floor of the shop, "Do I really look homeless?" He said, cracking a half-smile at her.

"What?" Ruby said, surprised by the question, "No, of course not! Who said that?"

"Weiss."

"Oh," Ruby said, stopping to think, "Yeah, that makes sense. Don't take it personally."

"Good," Cobin said, "So, what's all this about?"

"Well…" Ruby suddenly seemed to be intensely interested at the floor space between her feet, "We were thinking that, since you don't really have any clothes that aren't work clothes, and because you haven't really seen any of the world outside of the school, that it might be nice for us all to head into town this weekend and go shopping."

"Now you see," Cobin said, wagging his finger at her, "What exactly made it so hard for all of your teammates to just say _that?_ "

Ruby shook her head, "They… all have good intentions," she said, "They're just not great at expressing them."

"Mhm," Cobin said, but then he smiled at her, "Hey, we're all fighters, not lovers, right? Leave the diplomacy to the politicians."

"Heck yeah," Ruby said, smiling back at him, "So… you're not mad or anything?"

"Nope," Cobin said, "I was pretty damn confused there for most of the day, but not really mad."

"Awesome! So does that mean you're up for a shopping trip?" Ruby gave him one of her toothy grins.

Cobin rebuttled with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not really the shopping type," he said, "I really appreciate the thought. But even before I came here the only nice clothes I wore were the ones the Army issued to me. It's just not in my personality to make a show of things."

"Maybe, but it's not really about making a show," Ruby said, "It's just about getting away from all of this and doing something normal. I mean, you were literally ripped from your own reality a week ago, or something like that," she sighed, "Now of course you're our friend, but wouldn't you like to do something that made all of this seem a bit less, I don't know… weird?"

Cobin stayed silent for a few a seconds, gathering his thoughts, staring at the ceiling. When he looked back over at Ruby, he said, "Okay, but on one condition."

Ruby's eyes got wide and she smiled ear to ear, "Yes, of course! Anything!" she beamed.

"Right now," Cobin started, "You need to run along back to your dormitory and leave Rocco alone so that he can do adult things, like drink all of this alcohol and make a fool of himself."

Ruby laughed, "I can manage that," she said. The girl hopped up and made her way back toward the middle of the shop, underneath the skylight. But instead of simply jumping up and leaving, she turned around and looked at him again, "Although, I can't guarantee that I won't bring everyone back here so that we can watch and laugh at you from above," She said.

"Hey!" Cobin said, giving her the knife hand, "I have killed people, you know."

Ruby simply stuck her tongue out at him, before turning and jumping up and out into the night, as she usually did. Cobin shook his head, but there was a smile on his face. He pulled out his scroll, turned the music back up, and picked up his beer. "It wasn't such a bad day…" he said, taking his first swig.

" _You got a reaction,_

 _You got a reaction, didn't you?_

 _You took a white orchid,_

 _You took a white orchid, turned it blue…"_

…

The next morning, Cobin sat on his crate in the driveway, nursing his hangover with a wet rag wrapped around his head and a pot of fresh coffee as he watched the sun come up. How little he had been able to drink surprised him, as he had found himself too tired to continue before he had even finished the six pack. But still, the after effects tortured him, if to a lesser degree than the last time. So he sipped his coffee and thought about the events of the previous day. Now that Ruby had put the whole mess into perspective he actually thought of it as kind of sweet, if still a testament to how little he still understood these people and this world. But, progress was being made, if in small increments.

However, did he _really_ want to go shopping with a bunch of highschool girls?

"Good morning, Sergeant," The voice of Ozpin came from behind him before he could answer this question.

Cobin turned toward Ozpin and nodded, "Good morning to you too, professor," he said, "and what brings you by my garage today?"

"Very big news," Ozpin said.

"Oh?" Cobin said, suddenly a bit worried.

"Yes," Ozpin said, "As of today, you are officially a citizen of The Kingdom Of Vale."

"Wow," Cobin said, then he just sort of paused, pondering this for a moment. "So it's really real, then, huh? I mean, it was real before. But now it's _really_ , real." He had to stop again, to gather his feelings in a way that was coherent, "I'm not just an observer anymore. I'm like, a part of all of this now," he said.

Ozpin cracked a half-smile at Cobin, "Sergeant, I think you were very much a part of all of this since the day you arrived," he said.

"Hmm, maybe," Cobin said. He was still kind of shocked. In this moment, it all sort of hit him. All of the panic, uncertainty, and anxiety that any normal person would have felt over the past week hit him all at once, like a wave. But as soon as these feelings came, they seemed to be crushed under the weight of the rising sun. He thought of his first several days in this world, and the people he had met, and the friends he had already made. He thought about Ruby, and somehow the image of the girl's smiling face sealed it all away. In the moment when Cobin should have been screaming and absolutely having a panic attack, he simply breathed deeply, and took another sip of coffee.

"Now, there's something else we have to discuss that's related to this," Ozpin said, ending Cobin's little moment of clarity.

"Oh? Oh of course, shoot," Cobin said, snapping out of it.

"Well, you see," Ozpin began, "Now that you're a citizen, you're more or less free to travel within the Kingdom, you can even apply for a passport to travel further if you truly wish. Although, I do hope that you will want to continue your employment here at Beacon," he said.

"No worries there, Professor," Cobin said, "This place is as close as it gets to home right now. Can't imagine a reason I would want to leave permanently."

"That's very good to hear," Ozpin said, "But, I am sure that you will be wanting to leave campus every now and then to explore Vale and get a better idea of this world that you now inhabit. And when you do, there are certain ways in which you must conduct yourself, especially if you are with _students_ of this institution."

 _Oh, I see where this is going,_ Cobin thought, "Please, continue," he said.

Ozpin sighed, "Because you are staff here at the Academy, there's a question of…" the Professor paused, seeming almost too embarrassed by the topic to state it, "...Fraternization," he said, finally.

Cobin laughed, and it wasn't just a small chuckle either, like a big, outright laugh. "No problem there, Professor," Cobin said when he finally composed himself, "You see, I may look relatively young, but in here," Cobin tapped the side of his cranium with his finger, "I'm one _tired old man_ , and this _tired old heart_ does _not_ have what it takes to be messing around with teenage girls. I'll keep my distance."

Ozpin looked relieved, "That's extremely good to hear," he said.

"Plus, I'm like, at least ten years older than all of them," Cobin said, "It would be fuckin' weird."

"Indeed," Ozpin said, smiling, "Well, I guess I'll be off."

"Have a nice day, Professor," Cobin said as the form of Ozpin turned leave.

"You as well, Sergeant," Ozpin said, "And I wish you the best of luck on your shopping trip."

"Huh? What?" Cobin tried to ask, but Ozpin was already gone.

Suddenly Cobin's scroll began buzzing from his pocket. He pulled out the device and opened it, revealing a quick written message from Ruby, stating simply: " _Heard you got your registration! Congrats! No excuses now! -The whole gang."_

"Oh that bastard," Cobin said.

…

 **So, for all of you asking about relationship pairings in this fic, there's your answer. I don't really have anything against relationship pairings, but I'm just not very good at writing them. Also, I think if Cobin got "involved" with any of the students it would totally destroy this rep he's building as the fatherly-type, and I like him that way. That being said, if I find something occurring naturally between Cobin and another one of the RWBY characters, and it doesn't interrupt the normal flow of the story, maybe I'll run with it. Just have to wait and see.**

 **I don't think I've really mentioned this yet but the support I've gotten so far on this story is absolutely fucking amazing. I never would have expected all of this, and I can't thank each and everyone of you enough for following, favoriting, and reviewing this little fic of mine. I wanted to make sure I got this out there while I remembered to do so, because the walls of my life are slowly closing in around me and the time between updates is only going to get larger. So for everyone who has read and enjoyed this story: FUCKING THANK YOU. 3 Y'all are awesome.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Wahs, out.**


	13. General

It was early on in the afternoon, and Cobin was underneath a company car on the lift, straining his knowledge and experience with mechanics. He knew that at one point or another, he would find a project that defeated his and Ozpin's little lie about his mechanical aptitude, but he wasn't quite ready for it to happen _yet._ Still, Cobin was giving it his best shot, and figured that he could figure out exactly how to fix it given enough time. However, the question was whether or not the following morning would be enough time.

The good thing to come out of it was it provided a good distraction from the coming storm. The students who were about to lead him to his doom had decided that the shopping trip would take place that Saturday, giving them ample time to drag him around the city and visit as many stores as possible. When Cobin had responded with "Yeah, sounds great," he had just barely been able to hide the strain in his voice. What little time he had spent with Ruby and her companions he had quite enjoyed, but shopping was definitely not his type of activity. But there was something else that worried him about it, too…

Cobin wasn't exactly one of those 'well-adjusted' combat veterans, and he was aware of himself enough to know this. After you spend almost a year in country constantly in this state of red-alert, it can take a while to come down, and some people simply never do. Cobin knew that being in a big urban environment surrounded by faces and noises he couldn't recognize would set off all kinds of bullshit in his head. But, he had resigned himself to simply focusing all his psychological energy on keeping The Crazy at bay for the duration of the trip. He knew that no one was in danger, it's not like he would go ballistic and start throwing punches or anything, but having an absolutely crippling panic attack was a definite possibility. And that level of embarrassment was to be avoided at all costs.

Cobin was simultaneously attempting to fiddle with some wires under the car and look at a wiring digram he had pulled up on his scroll when the unmistakable sound of footfalls on the concrete floor of the shop made him stop and turn around. Cobin realized that he could only see the figure from the waist down because of where he was standing, so he stepped out from under the car.

As soon as Cobin saw who it was, his reflexes took over and he snapped to the position of attention, saying "Good afternoon, Sir," as he raised his right hand into a salute.

General James Ironwood returned the gesture, but then simply stated "Relax, Sergeant." The General watched Cobin nod, and return to a more relaxed posture before he continued, "You know, Sergeant, it's not like you're a POW, I'm not the officer of some foreign military force that you're required my military law to salute," he said.

Cobin chuckled, "I'll remember that for the future," he said, "So what brings the brass into my humble little shop today?"

"Well, first, allow me to introduce myself," Ironwood extended his hand toward Cobin, "I'm General James Ironwood."

Cobin took Ironwood's hand and shook it, "Sergeant First Class Rockland Cobin. And I figured as much, you've been in the news a bit recently," he said, letting go of the General's hand.

Ironwood smiled, "So you've been doing your own bit of research then?"

Cobin shrugged, "Intelligence drives operations. Or at least that's what the eggheads say."

That made Ironwood laugh, "Very well, Sergeant." Then the General's face got a bit more serious, "I don't know if anyone told you, but I was here at Beacon on the day that you arrived. I had to leave to attend to matters at my own academy before you woke up from your nap, but I returned as soon as I was able. I wanted to see what Ozpin had decided to do with you."

"Wish I could tell you that myself," Cobin said, "The Professor has been overwhelmingly generous, for sure, but really I don't think he even knows what he's going to do with me yet. So in the meantime…" Cobin patted the car up on the lift, "I get to play mechanic."

Ironwood nodded, "And how are you adjusting?" he asked.

"Fine," Cobin said, flatly.

Ironwood shook his head, "Honestly Sergeant, I was hoping you'd humor me a bit beyond that." The General sighed, "What do you say, got time to swap some war stories with another old soldier?" he asked.

Cobin was silent for a moment, but then nodded. "Please, step inside my office," he said.

Cobin led the general to the back of the shop, and into the small office space that was his living quarters. Once inside, Cobin directed Ironwood to sit in the office chair at the desk, and made his way to the cot where he slept. "Too early for liquid bread, sir?" Cobin asked.

"Never too early for liquid bread, Sergeant," Ironwood said, taking a seat in the chair.

Cobin grabbed a couple of beers from underneath his cot, and tossed one to Ironwood before taking a seat himself on the cot. "So, were you a Butter-Bar, Sir?" Cobin asked, opening his beer.

Ironwood looked a bit confused, "You'll have to explain that one to me, Sergeant," he said, taking his first sip.

"Sorry, that one was probably too specific to my world," Cobin said, "'Butter-Bar' is a reference to junior-officer rank insignia in my military. If an officer was ever a 'Butter-Bar' it means that they never served on the E-side; they started their career in the military as an officer," he said.

Ironwood nodded, now understanding. "Nope, I wasn't always 'Sir,' once upon a time it was 'Corporal Ironwood,' although it seems like a lifetime ago," he said.

"Hmm."

"Now it's my turn," Ironwood said, "When you came here, were you engaged in a conflict?"

"You could say that," Cobin said, then he paused, looking up at the ceiling as he thought, "It was bad fighting. Bad war. Bad reasons, maybe."

"The good reasons are always few and far between, Sergeant," Ironwood said.

"The actual incident that led to me being here, in one way or another, was a roadside bomb," Cobin said, taking a decent sized swig from his drink, "There was always a lot of that. It's somehow a lot harder to fight a mess of wires and plastic explosives than it is to fight a guy with a machine gun. But they had to make it as hard as possible on us."

"I find that we're slowly transitioning into that sort of conflict ourselves," Ironwood said, "And it scares me, honestly. I'd never say this in meeting or a press conference, but we don't have the knowledge base necessary to fight a war without a battlefield. It's a new concept for our world."

"Yeah, definitely don't say that in a press conference," Cobin said.

Ironwood chuckled at the comment, but his attitude slowly regained its serious tone, "A lot of bad things have happened here recently. A lot of things that are making the people doubt our ability, as a military, to keep them safe."

"So I've heard," Cobin said. "Let me ask you this: how's your intel community?"

Ironwood shook his head, "Not strong enough," he said, "Even within the Atlas military and all its funding and weaponry, military intelligence still boils down to little more than scout work; who's got the best view of the guys on the other side of the field. And that doesn't really work against these enemies."

"The White Fang?" Cobin asked.

"Yes," Ironwood said, "So you know of them?"

"Like I said, I have been reading the news," Cobin said, "I wish I could offer you some fool-proof advice, but I'm not an intel guy. I'm not qualified to design the kind of operation that you'll be needing to fight these people. What I can tell you is that you're probably in for the long haul."

Ironwood nodded, "I understand," he said, "And what about you?"

Cobin raised an eyebrow, "What about me?" he asked.

"Are you going to fight?" Ironwood asked, suddenly staring down the Sergeant with the practiced intensity of a high-ranking officer.

Cobin just looked at Ironwood for a minute, unprepared for the question and unsure of how to respond, "Sir, I've spent a lot of time fighting. In fact, it's reasonable to assume that I _died_ fighting back on my home world," he finally said, "And even back there, I was beginning to question _why_. With all do respect to your rank, now is _not_ the time to try and push me into a conflict I don't fully understand on a planet I don't know."

"Of course, my apologies," Ironwood said, realising his mistake.

"I'll forgive you," Cobin said, "If you tell me how how you got that nifty prosthetic," he said, pointing at the white glove that Ironwood wore over his right hand.

Ironwood was surprised, and looked down at the appendage, moving his fingers around. "How did you know?" He asked.

"Call it Old Soldier's Intuition," Cobin said, "Now I bet there's a real war story behind that."

Now it was Ironwood's turn for an extended pause, "It… it was a mistake," Ironwood, said, looking at the ground, "A mistake by a young Lieutenant Ironwood, who should have been more wary of what the Platoon Sergeant was telling him."

Cobin nodded, accepting the answer. He could tell that this was one of those stories that you didn't press the details on. "I've made plenty of mistakes," Cobin said, "Unfortunately for us, we chose the only profession where mistakes can't be forgiven."

"All too true, Sergeant, all too true," Ironwood said. "Well, I won't take any more of your time if you don't take any more of mine," he said.

Ironwood moved to stand up from the chair, but Cobin motioned for him to stop. "Just one more thing, Sir," Cobin said.

"Yes, anything," Ironwood said, sitting back down.

Cobin thought for a moment, forming the question in his mind. "How do _you_ deal with it?" He asked. "How do you deal with The Crazy?"

Ironwood didn't even need to question that one to understand what Cobin meant. "I remember… I was out with my daughter one time when she was very young. It was just after this," he said, knocking on his fake limb with his real flesh-and-bone fist, "I had recently been released from the hospital, and was granted a few days to be with my family. I was not ready to be out in public yet, but my daughter, she really wanted to go get ice cream with daddy, so I obliged." Ironwood paused now, as he grappled with the retelling of the story, "I don't even know what set it off, what may have triggered it. What I do know is that I lost control, and I let everything that had happened to me be the face of who I was. Afterward, I saw how scared my daughter was, and how badly she just wanted her father to be okay. So I resigned myself to the idea that I couldn't let all of the awful things that have happened to me affect the people I love; I started to think of it as criminal, in some ways. Maybe that's overly critical of myself, and of everyone else who does what we do as soldiers, but it's helped me." Ironwood suddenly looked exhausted, just from telling the story.

Cobin nodded. "Thank you, Sir," he said.

Ironwood stood, and moved to the door of the office, but he paused before he passed through the threshold, and began to speak again. "Sergeant, if I can offer you one piece of advice, regardless of how meaningless it is to someone in a place completely alien to them, I want you to know that you'll need to find something to love. It's the only way you'll make it out of this alive." And with that, the General simply left.

Cobin didn't see him to the front door, he just sat on his cot and stared at the place where Ironwood was sitting moments ago, as if the man had simply vanished. A couple of seconds after the sound of Ironwood's footfalls were no longer audible, Cobin said…

"I know."

…

 **Brief and unexpected little interlude here! I'm hoping to have the Operation Dress Code chapter done by the end of the weekend, but before I started working on it I wanted to write this little 'one-shot' within the larger story itself showing some actual interaction between Cobin and Ironwood. This was fun to write, and was one of those things that came naturally. That's how you know two characters work well together.**

 **Also, it's never revealed in RWBY that Ironwood's weird glove thing is due to having an advanced prosthetic limb, this is just my interpretation of it. Another very real, and possibly more likely possibility is that it's just advanced nerve damage, and he wears the glove because the skin is almost completely mangled scar tissue. I think this particular piece of cannon is one of those things that's up to the individual fan.**

 **That being said, I don't really have a place in my brain for Ironwood as part of Cobin's larger story, so I'm glad I got a bit more into his character here in the beginning stages.**

 **Hope you all enjoyed!**

 **-Wahs.**


	14. Shopping

"Ser… Sergeant Groth?" Cobin's hands shook as he directed the barrel of his rifle toward the other soldier.

Sergeant Groth turned quite calmly, and offered Cobin a warm smile when their eyes met, "Ah, Private Cobin, nice of you to join us!" He said.

Cobin kept having to readjust to keep his weapon pointed straight, he was just shaking too much, "What… why… why?" Even Cobin's voice shook as he looked at the scene laid out behind the higher ranking soldier.

Sergeant Groth nodded, maintaining his composure, "Come on, Soldier, there's no need for that now. Everything that has been done is what needed to be done."

"How could… how did…" Cobin's arms were weak, he felt like he would throw up.

"You see, Soldier, there's no going back now," Groth said, "Not for any of us. The only thing that we can do is move forward, onward with what we've become."

"No!" Cobin spat at him, "No, that's… that's bullshit!"

"Talk all you want, soldier," Groth said, glaring at Cobin now, "God may hate both of us, but the Devil welcomes only me…"

Cobin's eyes grew wide as he realized what the Sergeant was about to do, "Sergeant, NO!"

…

Sergeant Cobin's eyes shot open, he was shirtless, covered in sweat and sprawled on the floor of the office next to his cot. In an instant he jumped to his feet, and assumed his fighting stance. His eyes darted around the place even faster than his breath as he scanned the small space for threats. It took him a couple of seconds to really realize where he was. When he finally gained control of himself again, and stopped the hyperventilation, he sat down hard on the cot, and put his face in his hands. He shut his eyes tight and focused on something, anything that wasn't the dream. The memory. He hadn't had these dreams in a long time, and when they started again he didn't want to believe it. But yes, they were back.

He jumped a little as his scroll began beeping at him from the top of the desk at the other end of the room. He stood slowly, and took a moment to control his breathing, resetting himself. Then he walked to the desk to grab the scroll and opened it, revealing a message from Ruby: " _Hope you're awake! We'll all be meeting you down at the shuttle port in thirty minutes! -Ruby."_ Cobin just stared at the message for a second, trying to make sense of it, then he remembered. _Oh right, the shopping trip,_ he thought, _that's today, isn't it? Shit._ Cobin shook his head, it was time to put on the happy face and find that motivation.

He cleaned up and got dressed quickly, grabbing his backpack on the way out of the door. He couldn't be sure if Ruby meant the air shuttle was actually _leaving_ in thirty minutes, and missing it by only a minute or two would be the very definition of avoidable fuck-ups. So he half-jogged, half-walked to the shuttle port all the way at the outer edge of the campus. When he arrived at the small platform that very much resembled a bus stop, he found that he was the only one there. It was still relatively early in the morning, so it sort of made sense that all of the teenagers would be asleep. Ruby and her friends, however, had decided to bite the bullet and get up before the afternoon so that they could all catch one of the first shuttles into town and have a full day to spend. That being said, Cobin was still the first person there, and when he looked at the time he found that he was only a couple minutes early.

A slight feeling of worry filled him, until he heard "ROCCO!" from behind him. When he turned around, all he saw was a mass of brown hair and red fabric flying toward him at terminal velocity. He had no time to react, and just put his foot back to brace for the impact. When the flying ball of homicidal teenager reached him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and then allowed the force of her impact to simply be absorbed by Cobin's abs. Cobin made a weak grunting noise as all the wind was knocked out of him, and the girl simply giggled and hung onto him from his neck, her feet dangling off the ground. "Good morning!" She said, smiling up at him.

In the moments of confusion following all of this, the only words that Cobin could find were: "Ruby, bad!"

"Oops, sorry!" The girl said. She let go and allowed herself to fall to her feet in front of him. She watched as he rubbed the spot on his abdomen where she had impacted, and her face took on sort of a worried look. "Too much?" she asked.

"Yeah, a bit." Cobin said, but he managed to give the girl a strained smile as he said it, letting her know it was all good.

She smiled again, "Great! I hope you're ready to have the most awesome day ever!"

"I'm sure he would have been if you didn't try and break him first!" Said a familiar voice belonging to a tall blond.

Cobin looked up and past Ruby, and saw the rest of the students approaching in a group. Everyone appeared to be in a good mood, even Weiss was showing a sort of half-smile. The members of Jaune's team had decided to come along too, and at the very back of the pack were two new faces that Cobin didn't recognise.

"I'm fine," Cobin said, "Just a bit winded."

The large group of students stopped when they got up to where Ruby stood in front of him. "Are you sure?" Yang asked, "Little sister here can move like no other," Yang messed Ruby's hair, and the younger sister batted her elder's hand away and growled. Yang laughed, "Man, there was this one time, in the cafeteria…"

"Hey! I don't need to be reminded of that," One of the new faces, a boy with blue hair, said.

Cobin gave the blue haired student and his blond friend the knife hand, "People I don't know, explain yourselves," he said, unknowingly using his father voice.

The two of them suddenly looked a bit worried, "Uhh…" the blond one started.

"They're our friends who are visiting from another academy," Blake said, speaking for them.

"They're cool," Weiss said, looking over her shoulder to smile at the blue haired one.

"I'm Sun," the blond one said, pushing through the group to shake Cobin's hand. "And you're Rocco?"

Cobin took his hand and shook it, "Yep, nice to meet you," he said.

His blue haired friend followed, and offered the same gesture. "Neptune," he said, "We've heard you can kick some ass."

Cobin laughed a bit at the comment as he shook Neptune's hand, "Meh, I've got a few tricks up my sleeve," he said. Yang raised her eyebrow at him and smiled, but said nothing.

"So you're like, an instructor here?" Sun asked.

"Uhh…" Cobin was going to have magic-bullshit his way out of this one, "Sort of. Tentatively," is what he managed to get out, but this proved sufficient because before anyone could ask him anymore questions, Jaune spoke up.

"Hey, look, there's the shuttle now!" Jaune said, point up and past Cobin.

Cobin turned his head back and up to see the air shuttle coming in for a landing. It was a rather bulky, slow moving craft that in a way resembled a zeppelin, except the portion of it that would normally have been the place where the hydrogen was held was actually the passenger compartment. Cobin couldn't fathom how such a craft was aerodynamically feasible but he chalked it up to strange futuristic technology and rolled with it.

"So how long is the ride?" Cobin asked, turning back toward the group of students.

"Not long," Pyrrha said, "Vale is just at the bottom of the mountain, but getting there by anyway other than airship would be quite a challenge."

"I'm sure," Cobin said as they all watched the wofty craft touch down perfectly in its little landing space, just feet from them. With an electronic "Ding!" noise the sliding doors opened and an automated voice welcomed them aboard for direct service to the Vale Air Hub. Once inside, Cobin observed that it was sort of like a floating lounge, with a couch-like bench lining the walls and several tables with high chairs bolted to the floor closer to the center. They were the only ones on this first trip, so the ten students and one 'Instructor' had room to spread out and find their own space instead of huddling together uncomfortably.

Cobin watched from his bench seat up against the window of the craft as Beacon Academy slowly drifted away. Cobin was very interested to see the skyline of the school for the first time, as he had no way of seeing it before. Blake was sitting next to him, but appeared to be absorbed in something on her scroll. The rest of the crew had found their own small groups, scattered throughout the cabin and were carrying on with own conversations.

"Mind if I sit?" A voice said.

Cobin turned to see Pyrrha standing in front of him, "Go ahead," he said, smiling.

She sat down next to him, on the opposite side as Blake, and Cobin turned back around to continue watching out the window. There was silence in their little corner of the vessel, but not for long.

"Rocco, can I ask you something?" Pyrrha said.

"Shoot," Cobin said, still gazing outward.

"I was wondering, what kind of fighting style did you develop for the wars you waged where you're from?" Pyrrha asked.

Cobin turned to look at Pyrrha, the view of the Academy suddenly seemed uninteresting. "Fighting style?" He asked.

"Yes," Pyrrha said.

"Well, there's not really a 'style,' per-say," Cobin said, but then he had to pause for a second while he formulated a better explanation, "I suppose it's much different here, due to your Auras and Semblances. I imagine that a great deal of the way someone fights on this planet comes from their personal abilities manipulating this power you all have. It's not so where I'm from. There isn't really individual 'style,' just a proven set of pretty basic tactics and rehearsed movements that are performed as a team. The best fighter is the guy that can eliminate individuality and work the best as a cog in the machine that is his fire team or squad," Cobin chuckled a bit though, "But even that's overcomplicating it. It's really all about how's better at shooting people in the face."

Pyrrha nodded, "What about fighting with swords and knifes?" she asked, seemingly unperturbed by his shooting-people-in-the-face comment.

Cobin shook his head, "Non-existent, mostly. In those rare instances when you get to play badass and come up behind somebody without them knowing, maybe you'll use a knife or some other type of CQC, but the general philosophy of the modern military where I'm from is that, if you're close enough to the enemy to get them with a blade than you've probably already failed your mission beyond repair," he said, "I asked one my own Drill Sergeants a similar question once, and his response was 'Why in the Federal Fuck would I knife someone when I can just cap them from five-hundred meters?' And that's the general attitude."

"I'm sure the affect of firearms is much different in the absence of an Aura. I can't even imagine it." Pyrrha said, shaking her head.

"I've been shot," Cobin said, shrugging, "It's pretty damn awful."

Pyrrha's eyes got wide, "What… what happens?" she asked.

Cobin heard Blake move a bit in her seat from the other side, he didn't even have to look to know that he had her full attention now as well. "Well," he started, "This ball of flaming hot metal enters your flesh going maybe several thousand feet every second, and literally explodes out the other side taking a good piece of you with it. So yeah, it's pretty damn awful."

Pyrrha squirmed, but only slightly. Still, it was enough for Cobin to know the mental image made her uncomfortable. "And you survived that?" she asked.

"Well yeah, even without an Aura the human body is pretty tough -to an extent- especially with the help of modern medicine," Cobin said. He pulled back the sleeve of his t-shirt, revealing an ugly circular scar just under his right arm pit. Then Pyrrha did something unexpected and moved to touch it, but Cobin covered it again before she got close. "As I was saying," he started again, "You can get shot in the head and survive it. You might not be all you anymore when you wake up, but you can survive it and make a recovery."

"I've certainly never heard of anything like that," Pyrrha said. The red-head girl ran her hand through her hair, a sort of automatic response to imagining what Cobin had just described.

"Here, you want to hear a creepy soldier campfire story?" Cobin said, smiling at her.

Pyrrha nodded, but gulped as she psychologically prepared herself for whatever was to come. "Yes," she said.

Then Cobin turned to Blake, "Hey, you want to hear this too, don't you?"

Blake looked a bit surprised, obviously unaware that Cobin knew she was eavesdropping. But she too nodded, and said "Yes."

Cobin looked back and forth at the two girls once, both were sitting closer now and paying close attention. Cobin raised his pointer finger up to his face and said, "Take your finger and touch this space, this crevasse right below your nose and right above the center of your upper lip." He petted the spot with his own pointer finger and watched the two girls do the same. "In human anatomy it's called the Philtrum. That's the Lightswitch." Cobin pulled his hand away from his face and snapped his fingers once. "You can survive trauma to your brain, even it's from a bullet or shrapnel, but if you put a bullet into someone right there, into the Philtrum right below the nose, it completely turns their lights out, permanently. You shoot somebody right in that spot, you erase everything they were, everything that they are, and everything they might have been, in an instant. The Lightswitch."

Blake and Pyrrha were silent, deep in thought. Cobin sat, awaiting some kind of response from one of them. But neither of them spoke before Ruby piped up from the other side of the cabin, shouting "Hey, we're almost there, guys! Let's get ready to go!"

"Hell yeah," Yang said, "I think I need some new shorts."

Cobin chuckled a bit, "Well, it looks like it's time to get going," he said, but then he turned to Pyrrha, "You can ask me anything you want about what I did and where I'm from, just know that you're going to get a very honest answer," Cobin waited for Pyrrha to nod, and after she did he turned to Blake, "Same goes for you. But now you owe me one," he said.

Blake was startled out of her state of deep thought, "Huh? Owe you? Owe you what?" She snapped, irritated by the remark.

Cobin smiled at her, "A story," he said.

Blake's sharp facial expression softened, and after a moment she nodded, understanding what he meant, and accepting it. "I'll think of a good one for you," she said.

"Good," Cobin said, standing, "Let's get going, then."

…

The city of Vale was already bustling on the warm Saturday morning. People were out in their weekend clothes, with their families, going in and out of shops or stopping at the various restaurants that were around. It was all very much like any other city Cobin had been too, and even though he didn't realize it, it was comforting him. He had always believed it was important to get out and see people that were _real,_ and experience the things that were important to them, because if he didn't it became harder and harder to understand why he fought so hard when he was away. The noise and energy of the urban environment was setting off some of the little ticks in his mind, but not nearly as badly as he had expected. Maybe it was the fact that he was surrounded by super-human warriors, but he felt weirdly safe, especially with Ruby walking alongside him the entire time. She had informed him that they were first going to stop by an open-air market, and Cobin thought nothing of it until they actually arrived at the location.

When the group rounded the final corner that would lead them to the market square, and the place was suddenly laid out before him, Cobin internally reeled; it was exactly what you might expect a market square to be: people packed in shoulder to shoulder and moving between various kiosks and carts laid out in the street, everyone moving and yelling their way through an utter mass of humanity. It was all too similar to the kind of markets he had waded through in full battle-rattle, just before a bomb went off or a sniper took a shot at him. His mind started to go mad, screaming at him as his eyes darted around, checking the windows and the rooftops of buildings surrounding the market, trying to clear the space. Cobin thought that he would have to turn away, but then something unexpected happened.

Cobin felt something poking him in the side and looked down to see Ruby looking up at him, "Hey," she said, smiling, and something about the smile extinguished all the noise in Cobin's head, "So… there's like, a huge crowd of people here and I'm definitely going to get lost because I'm like, you know, short."

"Vertically challenged," Yang said, giggling.

"Shut up!" Ruby said to her sister, before turning back to Cobin, "So yeah, would it be cool if I rode on your shoulders?"

Cobin had to take a second to process the question, but then said "Yeah, sure." Cobin knelt down to allow Ruby an easy way to climb on. He knew that the girl could probably could just jump up onto him from where she stood, but he figured the impact would be less painful for him if he just took a knee and got down to her level.

"Awesome," Ruby said, climbing on. Once she was situated and Cobin stood back up to his full height, Ruby pointed triumphantly toward the giant crowd of people that made up the market and shouted, "Forward, nobel steed!" prompting everyone else to laugh. Cobin smiled, and led the group into the crowd. Despite the density of the people, and the noise, and the memories that poked at him from the corners of his mind, having Ruby up there on his shoulders somehow made it all quiet. Sort of like having a MK19 Automatic Grenade Launcher strapped to your head.

They made their way through the market, stopping at the various vendors, buying a piece of fresh fruit or something else to snack on occasionally, as well as looking at nicknacks and cool little homemade things people were selling from their carts. When Ruby was interested in something she would direct Cobin's attention to it by shouting "There!" and pointing at whatever it was she wished him to retrieve for her. Cobin would then take it and pass it upwards to her, and then wait until she was satisfied and handed it back down to him.

At one point, they came to a kiosk that was selling sunglasses, and Cobin was instantly enthralled. "Hmm, eye-pro," he said, as he picked up a pair of all-black wrap-around shades and tried them on. Having been in the Army for many years, 'eye-pro' had become an addiction and finding a good pair was always increasingly hard. He used the small mirror the kiosk had set up to check out how they looked on him, and silently wondered how they would hold up to flying brass casings and hot sand.

"They look good on you, you should get them," Ruby said from her perch on his shoulders.

"You think so?" He asked.

"Yeah. Hand me those ones," she said, pointing to a pair similar to the one's Cobin had picked out. He handed Ruby the shades and they both struck the same, cross-armed pose as they peered into the small mirror.

"That's a picture right there," Yang said from beside them. Ruby and Cobin turned to see the rest of the group watching and giggling at them. Even Lie was cracking a smile. "Here, everybody grab a pair of sunglasses, we can all pose like Rocco," Yang said.

The students quickly swarmed the small kiosk, all picking out a pair of shades they liked best. Then, once everyone was situated, Yang handed her scroll off to another patron of the market so they could have a group picture. With Cobin in the center and Ruby on his shoulders, the rest of them stood around him, mimicking his signature cross-armed pose and generally grumpy facial expression. Once the picture was taken, they all crowded around Yang to get a glimpse of the picture on her small scroll. "Perfect!" she proclaimed. Everyone else agreed, and requested that Yang send them all a copy as soon as possible. Cobin and Ruby both opted to purchase their sunglasses, while everyone else just put their's back.

Eventually, they waded all the way through the market and ended up on the other side, back on the main street. Once they were about halfway down the block, away from the crowd, Cobin knelt again to allow Ruby to climb off. "Thank you," she said, once she was back on her feet.

"No problem," Cobin said, but what he thought was _No, thank you._

…

It was getting to be around mid-day and they all decided it was a good time to find somewhere to sit down for lunch. After wandering a bit more through the commercial district, toward the ocean, they came upon a little cafe with nice patio seating that overlooked the wharf. Due to the size of their group, they had to take up three of a small tables just so they could all sit down. But nobody seemed to have a problem with this, everyone found their own little group and got comfortable while they waited for the food to come out. Cobin's table consisted of himself, Ruby, Blake, and the exchange student named Sun. Cobin didn't have to observe for very long to know that Blake and Sun knew each other _well_ , in a different way than just friends.

"So, what exactly do you do at Beacon?" Sun asked suddenly, "No offense or anything but you don't quite look like a normal instructor."

"None taken," Cobin said, shrugging, "Well, officially I'm not really even an instructor, I'm a mechanic, I do all the work on the company vehicles."

"Oh, there's a bit more to it than that!" Yang shouted at them from her own table.

"Hey!" Cobin said, looking at her with a cheeky smile, "Eavesdropping is impolite." Cobin turned back to his own group and sighed, "I also work in… discipline, I guess you could say."

Blake giggled, "That's one way to put it."

"You should've seen what he did to Cardin and his groupies," Ruby said.

"Oh?" Sun looked a bit surprised, "That dude even scares me. I didn't think it was possible for someone to have that much muscle mass."

"Muscle's only get you so far," Cobin said, chuckling, "That guy's got a bad case of LHS, but I think I got a good start on fixing it."

"LHS?" Ruby asked.

"Little Heart Syndrome," Cobin said, "He looks big and tough, but inside that's one sad little girl. I know one when I see one."

"Damn!" Sun said, "I'll have to remember that next time he makes some smart comment about my tail."

Cobin laughed, "Just tell him you know me and he'll probably piss himself."

"Good to know!" Sun said. "So, how did you come to know Blake and the rest of these guys so well? You've only been here for a couple weeks, right?"

As the question rolled off of Sun's tongue, everyone else at the table became instantly uncomfortable. The two exchange students had not really been informed of Cobin's origin, and everyone else was under strict mandate to not speak of it. Still, some explanation would have to be given. "Well, let's just say it was baptism by fire," Cobin said, "It wasn't exactly the most pleasant of introductions."

Sun laughed, "Yeah, well, I can say the same," he said, prompting Blake to swiftly elbow him in the ribs, "Gah! What was that for?" he asked.

Ruby giggled, "Explosions and fighting just seems to be the way we get acquainted with people around here."

"Hey, you don't really know someone until you've literally almost killed each other," Cobin said, prompting the whole table to laugh.

"So what did you do before you came to Beacon?" Sun asked.

"Uh…" Cobin said, "A bit of this and that. I was in the military for a while."

"Oh? In Atlas?" Sun asked.

Then Blake cut in, "Yeah, he worked with them for a while, but not long because you didn't like the way they handled things, right?" She said, saving him.

Cobin nodded, he didn't really have an option besides to go along with this new story, "Yeah, they just weren't my type of people," he said, "But I did learn a thing or two while I was there."

"Cool," Sun said, "So Beacon is like a fresh start for you?"

"Exactly," Cobin said, "Someday, when you get to be as old as I am, you might find yourself just not fitting into the reality you know anymore. So, you've got to make a new one."

"You're not that old!" Yang shouted at them again.

"Not on the outside!" Cobin shouted back, "But if I'm tested long enough, the grumpy old man will come out, and you will not like him!"

Yang just smirked at him before going back to her own conversation.

"Your sister is going to drive me insane." Cobin said, turning to Ruby.

"My sister is going to drive all of us insane," Ruby said, smiling.

Shortly thereafter the food came out, and they continued to chat casually back and forth as they ate and looked out over the great expanse of water. It was a very pretty scene, and Cobin was enjoying it very much until everyone had finished eating, and Ruby stood up to announce that it was time for them to continue forward with their primary objective, the one Cobin had been dreading: The clothing store.

…

Ruby and Yang led the group a few blocks inland, before stopping in front of what looked like a giant department store, with the wording " **THE URBAN WARRIOR** " proudly displayed across the front in giant gold letters. Cobin's eyes grew wide as he looked up at the monstrosity, and thought to himself _Yes, this is how I'm going to die._

"Come on!" Ruby shouted, grabbing Cobin's hand and dragging him inside.

Once inside, the building appeared to go on forever, with endless racks of clothing and shoes, divided into sections based on different "styles" rather than gender. Cobin looked around at his environment like the survivor a naval battle out at sea might look at his slowly sinking battleship while he waded in the murky ocean water, waiting to be devoured by sharks or simply drown. Back on Earth, his entire civilian wardrobe had more or less consisted of T-shirts he got on vacation and dirty pairs of jeans, he couldn't even remember the last time he had been clothes shopping, but he damn sure remembered why.

"Alright," Yang said, "Everyone can go do their own thing, but me and Ruby need to go save Mister Stylistically Challenged here," she announced, slapping Cobin on the shoulder. And with that, they all broke up into their own separate groups again, and made their way deeper into the depths of The Urban Warrior.

Yang and Ruby once again grabbed Cobin by his wrists and dragged him away from the entrance. He complied, knowing full well that these girls were going to take him wherever they desired, regardless of how much he vocally or physically protested. Nearer to the back of the store, they came to a section labeled "Business Fashionable" and pulled Cobin in between the huge racks of button-up shirts, polos, and black and blue pants. As they moved down the rows, the two girls moved with a swiftness, grabbing various pieces of clothing off the racks and tossing them into a pile that was slowly accumulating in Cobin's arms. He didn't get to ask questions, he had no say, he just silently walked behind them as they grabbed things for him to try on. Soon, the stack was so big that he couldn't even see over it anymore, and simply had to trust the two girls as they led him around through the section.

Eventually, they stopped, and Yang said, "Cool, that's enough for now, head into the changing room and we'll wait out here for you." and with that, the they got behind him and pushed him into the changing room area, where he eventually found his way into an unoccupied stall. Over the course of the next hour or so, he painstakingly tried on all the clothes, exiting with every new shirt or pair of pants so that the girl's could critique the way they looked on him, and make the call as to whether or not the article of clothing was suitable. Even when he had a suggestion or an opinion they would shush him and ignore it, which he was more or less alright with. Fashion was one of those things he was so out-of-touch with that he couldn't even know for sure whether or not something he liked would raise stranger's eyebrows on the street, so he just went with whatever Ruby and Yang decided for him. At the end of this grueling selection process, he had five shirts, four pairs of pants, and two ties as well as a sport coat to wear when the occasion called for that level of formality.

"Awesome!" Yang said, when he emerged for the last time dressed back in his normal clothing, "Now you don't have to look homeless anymore."

Cobin squinted at her through tired eyes, "I don't look homeless now," he said.

"Says you," she said, winking at him, "Alright, well, you two can hang out while I go look for something for myself. Ruby, do you need anything?"

"Naw," she said, shaking her head, "I like the clothes I've got."

"I did, too," Cobin said.

"Yeah, but no one else did," Yang said, "Alright, I'll see you two in a bit then!" she said as she wandered off, back into the store.

"You know," Cobin said, once Yang was out of sight, "She is really brutal."

"No man's ego withstands the power of Yang," Ruby said, "Well, let's go get that stuff paid for and find someplace to sit down. Why does standing in clothing stores always more tiring that standing anywhere else?"

"I don't know," Cobin said, "But I feel it."

And with that, Ruby and Cobin made their way back to the front of the store where the checkout line was located. Ozpin had generously set him up with an employee bank account through the school, and had forwarded him his first month's pay in order to finance this little trip. Once everything was packed and bagged up, Cobin and Ruby found themselves sitting on a bench, looking out onto the street through one of the store's front windows.

Cobin took a deep breath, feeling like he could finally relax after the trials and tribulations he had just experienced. "Hey," he said, turning to Ruby, "Thanks for this. It was really nice."

The girl smiled back at him, "Good, It was really nice for everyone else too," she said, "Do you still feel alone?"

"You know, not so much," he said, smiling at her.

"Great!" Ruby said.

Then, quite suddenly, there was a mass of yellow very close to Cobin's face. He looked up to see Yang standing before him, posing in a yellow sundress that matched the vibrant color of her hair. "So…what do you think?" she asked.

"Looks really great, Yang!" Ruby said.

"It's cool," Cobin said, nodding.

Yang frowned at him, as this was clearly not the reaction she was hoping for. "Just 'Cool?' Come on, Rocco, you've got to give me more than that," she said, giving him a sly smile.

Cobin shook his head, "Nope," he said.

Yang scowled slightly and put her hands on her hips, "What? Why not?" she demanded.

" _Well,_ " Cobin said, preparing himself for whatever happened next, "Besides the myriad of moral and ethical reasons -namely that I'm like, ten years older than you- your headmaster forbade me."

Yang raised her eyebrow, "Ozpin _forbade_ you from telling me I look good in a dress?" she asked.

"He forbade me from having an inappropriate relationship with a student," he said, "When I was in the army, we had similar policies when it came to soldiers we were training. Regardless of whatever meaning I put behind it if I compliment you, it's an unprofessional way to conduct myself. So I refuse."

Yang was becoming increasingly frustrated, "But…"

"No," Cobin said, cutting her off, "From now on consider me _Uncle_ Rocco."

" _Whatever,_ " Yang said, before storming away.

Cobin sighed and turned back to Ruby, "Sorry about that, it's not my intention to piss off your sister, but this is a point I really want to drive home."

"It's okay," Ruby said, but she was looking at the floor, and her tone of voice said otherwise.

"Hey now," Cobin said, patting her lightly on the back, "You should know by now there's no use in lying to me. If I was too harsh you can tell me, but avoiding the topic isn't going to do either of us any good."

"No, it's not that, it's just…" Ruby looked up and out the window of the shop, but it was clear that all of her attention was really focused inward. "I've… I've never felt like I want to show off to people like that," she said.

"Maybe that just means you have more self-confidence," Cobin said.

Ruby shook her head, "No, that's not what I mean," she breathed in deeply, unsure of how to put it. She turned around in her seat on the bench and looked behind them, "See, look there," she said, pointing.

Cobin turned to see all of their friends scattered throughout the store. But now, they were in much tighter, more personal groups. Sun with Blake, Weiss with Neptune, Jaune and Pyrrha, everyone was now paired off perfectly, and even Yang was flirting with the boy behind the cashier counter. Cobin looked back over at Ruby, who's face was even more pained than before, "So you're sad because you're alone?" he asked.

She shook her head, and they both turned back around to face the window again. "Being alone isn't what makes me sad. I've just never wanted to _not_ be alone. Not being… 'with' someone has never bugged me, and I've never wanted it. But everyone else does and sometimes I just…" she couldn't even make eye contact with him anymore, "sometimes I feel like something's wrong with me, you know."

 _Ah,_ _I get it now,_ Cobin thought. He had figured that people here, in the ordinary everyday parts of their lives, more or less dealt with all the same things that people back on Earth did. People still paid bills, old folks still went to nursing homes, and teenagers still grew up and had to deal with finding their sexuality. Including, to be sure, _asexuality_. "Hey," he said, squeezing the girl's shoulder, "You know it's not necessary to do that. There's no rule that states you have to find another person to dedicate all of this extra time and emotion too. You still love your sister, you still love your friends, right?"

"Well, of course, but…"

"Than that's all you need," Cobin said, before she could say more, "The love that you have for the people in your life is just as strong as the love someone might feel for a significant other, perhaps stronger. You don't need to go through life always seeking romance in order to lead a fulfilling life and collect the compassion and love of the people around you. Plus," he smiled at her, "romance sucks anyway."

Finally, she smiled back up at him. "Thank you, Uncle Rocco." she said. And then suddenly, she lunged toward him and wrapped her arms around his middle again, burying her face in his side. Cobin still didn't like hugs, but he figured he could get used to this. After a couple seconds, once Ruby released her grip and pulled away, he patted her on the head.

"Thank you for the excellent day," Cobin said.

"No problem," she said, smiling.

Still smiling, Cobin turned his attention back toward the window of the shop, and looked out onto the street. It was still probably going to be a while before everyone else was done, so he figured he should probably get comfortable. Only a few seconds passed though, before something very strange began to unfold across the street…

It started with a car that rolled up to a storefront, directly across the street from The Urban Warrior. It parked there, facing the wrong direction and illegally in front of a fire hydrant. The driver, a young man with what appeared to be tusks coming from his mouth, in black pants and a grey hoody, got out quickly and put his hood up and began walking briskly down the street, away from the car. Seeing this, all sorts of lights began going off in Cobin's brain. He just shook his head, attempting to get them to shut up. _It's probably nothing,_ he thought, _got to get The Crazy out._ He looked across the street again and saw the storefront the car was parked in front was labeled " **THE MIDNIGHT DUST** " and then under that, in smaller letters it stated " **Carrying Only The Best Schnee & Other Dust Products." **_Schnee,_ Cobin thought, _isn't that Weiss's family's company?_

"What're you looking at?" Ruby asked, noticing Cobin's intense stare.

"It's probably nothing," he said, scanning the rooftops across the street. Sure enough, on the roof of a large warehouse, a couple buildings down from the The Midnight Dust, stood what looked like another young man in a grey hoody, holding something in his hand. Because of the angle and the distance, Cobin couldn't be sure, but it certainly appeared as though the young man was looking directly at the car that had been abandoned so quickly in front of the fire hydrant. _No no no no no,_ Cobin thought, a panic slowly building, _This is not fucking happening!_ "Ruby, do you see that guy in the grey hoody, standing on top of that warehouse?"

Ruby looked a bit confused at first, but then looked toward where Cobin was pointing to the guy in the hoodie. "Yeah, I see him," Ruby said.

"Okay, look at every building across the street and tell me if you can see anyone else like him, okay?" he said.

"Sure," Ruby said. She was still a bit confused as to why, but she trusted Cobin's judgment. After scanning the windows on the opposite side of the street once or twice, her eyes fell on another grey-hooded young man on one of the upper-floor balconies of a hotel that stood on the opposite side of The Midnight Dust from where the warehouse was. "There!" Ruby said, pointing, "But what's he got in his hands?"

Cobin looked, and as he did his eyes grew wide, "That… that's a video camera," he said, "Oh god no, no no no no," he repeated.

"What is it?" Ruby asked.

"Ruby get down!" Cobin shouted. He twisted and lunged, grabbing Ruby and pulling her down to the floor behind the bench. Once there, he scrambled on top of her to cover her with his body, and brought his own arms up to cover his head just in time for the bomb across the street to go off.

Even from across the street, the blast shook the foundation of the building that housed The Urban Warrior. The shock wave was so powerful it felt as though it rattled his skeletal structure, and he felt hot bits of glass and debris rain down on him as the windows, doors, window frames, and anything on the street in front of the store was blown inward. When he looked up, there was so much dust in the air that he could hardly see, and he immediately began coughing as he tried to take in a breath. "Ruby…" he got out in between forced hard breathes, "Are you alright?" he said, lifting himself up off the girl.

"Yeah," she said, coughing a bit herself. "I'm fine."

Suddenly the rest of the students were around them. "What in Dust was that?!" Pyrrha shouted.

"A bomb," Cobin stood quickly, helping Ruby to her feet as he did, "Ruby, take your team and get the cameraman!" he ordered.

"Right!" Ruby said, "Come on, team!" she said as she darted out the open space where the window used to be, Blake, Yang, and Weiss in tow.

"The rest of you," Cobin said, directing his shouting to the remaining group of students, "Trigger man, roof of the warehouse at the end of the street, GO!"

Without hesitation, they all drew their weapons and exited the clothing store in the same manner Ruby and her team had, bounding at incredible speed up toward the roof where the trigger man had been. Cobin already knew that because he lacked the abilities of the students, there was little he could do at this point. "Hey, is everyone alright?" He shouted into the store. It was sparsely populated, but the young man that had been behind the counter at the register raised his hand from under the counter and gave Cobin a thumb's up.

 _Good,_ Cobin thought. He turned his attention back toward the giant hole where the window had once been, and scanned the street. After observing the crater in the street and the heap of loose bricks that was once The Midnight Dust, he looked down the block, past the hotel and saw something he couldn't believe; The tusked kid that had driven the car was still in sight, but running away down the block. _Amateurs,_ Cobin thought, as he jumped out the window himself and took off in a dead sprint after the driver.

Now, the kid had a lead on him, and was significantly younger, but the merits of special forces training are not to be underestimated. The actual breaking point of one's body is far above and beyond what one's psychology would normally allow, the important thing that is learned in training for special operations is how to push your body absolutely to it's _real_ limit, and sustain it. Cobin's dead sprint, that most people could probably have only carried for less than a half a minute, propelled him forward, closer and closer to the driver as they approached the corner at the end of the block. The kid almost tripped over himself as he rounded it, disappearing behind the corner building. By the time Cobin rounded it, he was very near to his target.

Cobin was only a few feet away when a car pulled out from an alley in front of them and the kid scrambled to get inside. He got into the shotgun seat and managed to close the door just as Cobin reached it. _Holy shit, this is going to hurt,_ Cobin thought as he pulled his fist back and put all of his weight behind it as he punched through the window of the car. The glass exploded all over the kid and his getaway driver as Cobin's fist violently entered the vehicle. Before the driver even had time to pull away, Cobin grabbed the kid with the tusks by the front of his shirt and pulled him forward, slamming his head into the dash of the car, and then pulling him out of the window and face-first onto the pavement.

Even at this point, the logical thing for the getaway driver to do would have been to just put his foot into it and leave his tusked friend on the pavement to receive Cobin's wrath alone, but this is not how it played out. First, the rear passenger door opened and another kid in a hoodie attempted to get out, but only got halfway there before Cobin put his foot into the door and smashed the kid between the door and the frame of the car, causing him to collapse into a lump on the sidewalk. Cobin looked up just in time to see the getaway driver vaulting over the roof of the car with a giant, machete-like blade in his hand. Cobin quickly side-stepped as this final enemy swung the blade at him, and it became very obvious very quickly that this person was also a highly inexperienced fighter. As the blade came down again, Cobin stepped inside of the swing, grabbing the wrist that held the blade with one hand the driver's throat with the other. In this position, it was a simple matter of kneeing of the driver very forcefully in balls, and watching his face contort in pain as he dropped the blade to the ground. To finish it off, Cobin let go of the guy's neck and swiftly chopped him in the jugular, before letting go and stepping back so that he could straight kick him in the solar plexus, sending the driver flying backwards and into his recovering companion that Cobin had smashed in the door of the car. The final impact put the both of them completely out of commission. Cobin turned to the tusked kid, who was on a knee and slowly trying to rise. Without hesitation, Cobin brought his foot around and side-kicked him in the face, knocking him out for good.

The sound of tires screeching brought Cobin's attention back to the street, where he saw another car approaching at a very high velocity. In Cobin's adrenaline-fueled state, the car seemed to pass in slow motion and Cobin looked inside to see none other the cameraman, attempting to make his getaway. Without thinking, Cobin ran to the other side of the car that had previously held the terrorists helping the tusked kid make his escape attempt. Cobin hopped in the driver's seat and belted in, before stepping on the gas and sliding out onto the street himself, engine whaling and tires screeching as he did. A high-performance driving course is another one of those things you can, and probably will take, as a member of the Special Forces community, and it only took Cobin a couple blocks before he was right on the tail of the much more inexperienced driver. His brain fired on all cylinders as he quickly attempted to figure out how he could stop the other car without endangering anyone bystanders. But that quickly proved not to be a problem as the cameraman played right into Cobin's hand and turned down an entirely unpopulated street lined with warehouses and other commercial properties. Cobin swiped the rear-end of the vehicle in front of him, sending the car into a slide. The cameraman overcorrected, and sent the car spinning into the side of one of the warehouses. It smashed into the brick wall hard enough to put into a roll, and it bounced off its roof once before landing back on it's wheels and sliding a bit further down the street, before coming to a halt, battered, smoking, and useless.

Cobin pulled his car to stop just behind it as the cameraman opened the door and fell out onto the street, trying to crawl away from the smashed hunk of metal that he had been driving just moments ago. As Cobin approached him, he turned onto his back and produced a pistol, attempting to bring it up to aim at Cobin. But Cobin was already on the cameraman, and kicked the weapon out of his hand before curb-stomping his head into the asphalt. It was already over by that point, but Cobin couldn't stop, he got on top of the guy's chest and just started to hit him, over and over again. Cobin hit him…

And hit him…

And hit him…

And hit him…

 _God may hate both of us, but the Devil welcomes only me…_

With every brutal punched delivered by the well-trained and practiced soldier, the cameraman's body jumped and twitched. There's no saying just how many punches Cobin got in before he heard someone shout "Rocco!" and two people grabbed his arms, pulling him back and off of the cameraman.

Cobin sat back hard on the ground, and the corners of his vision darkened as he hyperventilated and the sound of his own heartbeat filled his ears. Suddenly, Yang was down on her knees in front of him, hands on his shoulders, "Hey, hey! It's over!" She said to him, "It's all over, it's okay!" she said, shaking his shoulders. Slowly, his breathing normalized, and the weight of his own body overcame him as he fell backwards onto his back. He looked up at the clear blue sky of the Saturday afternoon, in between the towering warehouses, and thought to himself _What a beautiful day._

…

 **So here it is, at long last! I had a great time writing this chapter, so I hope you all had fun reading it.**

 **For everyone that didn't pick up on it, "eye-pro" is Army slang, usually referring to black, wrap-around sunglasses but can be universally applied to any vision-related device worn on one's face. Army guys have a weird thing for eye-pro, and so I figure Cobin wouldn't be any different.**

 **And yes, I'm writing Ruby as asexual! Why? Because that's how I interpreted her character from the show, and I haven't come across any reading or piece of fan speculation that would make me think otherwise. If you're of the opinion that I'm somehow committing murder against the cannon by pointing out that Ruby seems absolutely uninterested in genitals, I'm sorry, but this is how I'm going to write her.**

 **And a note on the whole "Lightswitch" thing, I have absolutely no idea whether or not that is anatomically correct, it's just something one of my AIT instructors told me one day while we were bullshitting after class. I figured it made a nice addition the story.**

 **Love you all, thanks for reading!**

 **-Wahs.**


	15. Hungover

Cobin sat with his legs hanging off the back of the ambulance as a paramedic knelt on the ground with some special tool and picked bits of glass out of his hand. On his left side sat Ruby, who remained silent and just sort of looked at the ground as the paramedic went about her work. They had insisted on putting a shock blanket on Cobin, which now hung around his shoulder like some kind of cape-of-shame, and the tired old soldier wore it with a definite slouch in his back and deep, dark circles under his eyes. The rest of the students had formed a semicircle around them, either looking on at the medic's work with interest or completely lost in thought.

"So…" Cobin said slowly, looking up, "What happened with the camera guy?"

The three members of team RWBY that made up the large group shifted nervously for a moment and diverted their eyes from him, and he could feel Ruby herself do the same, even though he wasn't looking at her.

"We lost him inside the hotel," Blake said, being the first one to speak up, "We only caught a glimpse of him before his disappeared back into his room, and he might have already been on the ground floor by the time we made it up there."

" _I'm sorry,"_ Ruby said quietly from her seat next to him.

"It's alright," Cobin said, nudging her, "You don't win every battle, you don't catch every bad guy. If all of my missions back home had gone as well as this little escapade than it might have been a much shorter…" Cobin suddenly realized the audience he had and stopped before he said anything more. He scanned quickly over the faces of Sun and Neptune, and they definitely looked a bit confused. _Ah shit,_ Cobin thought. Then he looked down at the medic, who was so involved with what she was doing she wasn't paying any attention. "... Well, you get the idea," he said.

"But you _did_ catch him," Weiss said, "Even when we couldn't it."

Cobin looked at Weiss, it amazed him how the woman could sound so accusing even when she was complimenting somebody. "Yeah, well, I've been doing this for a long fuckin' time," he said, "And Serendipity favors me, I'm like her pet chihuahua," he chucked at his own joke, but no one else did.

Cobin got silent for a second as he looked past the students at a scene unfolding behind them: Three more paramedics were lifting a stretcher with the cameraman on it into the back of another ambulance. They already had two IV's hooked into him, and one of the paramedics was operating a pump that led into an oropharyngeal airway, breathing for him. From the distance Cobin was sitting at, the face behind the oxygen mask looked like little more than a bloody pulp help together with gauze. He looked limp. Cobin's memory from the past thirty or so minutes was shaky, but he knew the kid couldn't have been over twenty years old. Terrorist or not, once the moment's over and the rush is gone, it's one of those things that's hard to deal with.

"Alright, you're set to go," the paramedic said as she snipped off a pair of loose gauze hanging off of his hand.

"Thank you," he said, examining the bandage, "Any need to go to the hospital?"

The paramedic gave him that were-you-born-yesterday look that he had become all too familiar with these past weeks, "Of course not," she said, "I got all the glass out, and that biogel I put on your hand before the bandage should have it healed up in no time. If it gets infected -which it shouldn't- go ahead and see the doc, otherwise you'll be fine. Can't guarantee there won't be a nasty scar, though." And with that, the paramedic climbed past him, into the back of the ambulance.

"That's fine," Cobin said, "What's one more?"

"You need a ride somewhere, Mister Cobin?" The paramedic said from behind him.

"Nope, legs still work fine," he said.

"Alright then, I'll send the release form to your scroll. Just make sure you e-sign it sometime in the next twelve hours, or prepare for a nasty fine." The paramedic said, sending him off with one final warning.

"You got it," Cobin said. He stood, shrugging the shock blanket off his back, and stepped forward away from the ambulance. Ruby followed.

"Alright," He said, addressing the students, "Who's ready to go the fuck back home?"

All the students nodded in agreement, "Professor Goodwitch is waiting for us at the Air Hub," Pyrrha said.

" _Sweet,_ " Cobin said, "Don't worry, I'll take the fall for this one."

"Rocco…" Ruby started.

"Hey, I'm the responsible adult," Cobin said, looking down at the girl, "There was probably a better way I could have handled this. I'll talk to Goodwitch."

"Are you sure?" Yang said from the crowd.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Cobin said, pinching the bridge of his nose, "But afterward, I'm gonna get wicked fucking drunk." This comment was met with an ocean of confused or otherwise eyebrow raised looks from the students, "Uh… I mean… responsible adult things… like sleeping, and reading…" That one prompted a small round of laughter from the students, lightening the mood. Cobin smiled, "Alright, let's get out of here," he said.

…

Professor Ozpin was sitting at his desk on Saturday evening when a telecall from the Vale Police Chief came up on the screen of his desk-top scroll. Ozpin and the Police Chief, a heavy-set man named Quibs, had a very long and very interesting working relationship. At first, the two men didn't care for each other; Quibs saw Ozpin as the egoistic head of an institution that did nothing but produce maniacs with superpowers who tore apart his streets, and Ozpin saw Quibs as an overly political, loud-mouthed incompetent who had good ideals but not enough brains to make them a reality. But, as the years went by and cases of Beacon students assisting in the falling crime rate stacked, Quibs started to become much more understanding when he caught an aspiring Huntsman or Huntress up to something deplorable while on vacation in Vale. Many favors had been exchanged and now the two men, while still not quite friends, appreciated each other very much.

Ozpin pressed the "Accept Call" button on his screen. "Professor Ozpin speaking, how may I help you today, Chief?" Ozpin said.

Chief Quib's face appeared on his screen. "Good afternoon, Professor," Quibs said, "Everything going alright up there on that big old mountain?"

Ozpin chuckled, "Yes, Chief, quite alright. But I hear it's not so down where the real people are," he said, sipping his tea.

Quibs shook his head, the man looked exhausted, "They got a lot of people this time, Ozpin. I mean, that breach in the old subway that happened a month or so ago, that was big, don't get me wrong. But those were Grimm, and your students and staff were already there to hold them off when they hit. This time…" the man looked off to the side of the screen, it was obviously very difficult for him to talk about this, "They got families, Ozpin. Whole families. They hit a major Dust store at peak hours on a Saturday, and took out the bakery and the card shop on either side of it. You can't retaliate against a car bomb."

Ozpin was a man of small expression, he just didn't move his face very much, but anyone who had known him long enough could tell this news had made him very somber. "My deepest sympathies to the families of those lost. Beacon Academy is very much a part of the Vale community, and as the headmaster I officially extend our hand in helping recover from this catastrophe in any way we can. Just say the word."

"Well, that's sort of what I called to talk to you about," Quibs said, "Because some of your students and staff already did."

Ozpin nodded, "Yes, I'm aware," he said, "Did they cause you or your officers any unnecessary trouble?"

"No," Quibs said, shaking his head, "Quite the opposite; if your students hadn't been there we might not have even caught any of these people. I simply don't have a task force capable of dealing with this sort of event right now. So my gratitude goes to you and your academy."

"Thank you very much, Chief," Ozpin said.

" _But_ ," Quibs cleared his throat, "It's not your students I need to talk to you about, it's this new instructor of yours; a Mister Rockland Cobin?"

Ozpin's minor facial expression suddenly became very serious, "Yes?" he probed.

"Well, I gotta ask, Professor, where in the Dust did you find this guy?" Quibs suddenly looked down, appearing to be sorting through papers on his desk. "So, he's directly responsible for apprehending four of the five terrorists that are now in our custody, and all four of those individuals are now in intensive care at Vale General Hospital." Quibs now produced a small pair of glasses that he doned as he held a report of some kind up to his face. "God, we've got broken jaws, broken legs, skull fractures, a bent… a bent trachea? Holy shit." Quibs shook his head again and put the report down, turning his attention back to Ozpin on the other side of the screen, "He damned near killed two of these guys, and one of them needs like, full facial reconstructive surgery. IF he makes it, that is, they don't even know yet." The Police Chief suddenly looked very serious, "Ozpin, I've never, _ever_ seen anyone from your academy -student or staff- fight like this guy. What the hell is going on up there?"

Ozpin was silent for a moment as he formulated his thoughts, and took a long sip of his tea before answering. " _Sergeant_ Rockland Cobin was in the military for a very long time, in multiple different kingdoms. He is a professional soldier to end all other professional soldiers. But like all men with his experience, he's working through the things that he did and saw while serving. He sort of… _fell into our lap_ here at Beacon, and we've taken him under our wing as part of his rehabilitation process. And almost universally, his presence has been a positive force on campus so far." Ozpin gave it a second to let Quibs absorb all of that, " _However,_ he is being constantly evaluated to ensure that he does not pose a danger to my students or the kingdom they're training to protect, and this incident will be discussed with him."

Quibs nodded, accepting that answer as sufficient, "Alright, Professor. I've trusted you for quite a few years, and I see no reason not to continue. But please, keep an eye on your _lost puppy,_ if you would."

"Understood, Chief," Ozpin said, "I wish you and your officers the best of luck following up with this incident, and please let me know if there's anything that Beacon can do to help."

"Thank you, Professor," Quibs said, "Goodbye."

"Goodbye," Ozpin said as the call disconnected.

Ozpin stood from his chair, and walked to the large window overlooking the campus behind his desk. He squinted, and in the distance he could see the air shuttle that almost certainly held the students and staff in question approaching the landing platform. Ozpin looked down at his wristwatch. _It's late,_ he thought, _I'll let him have a nights rest before we meet. Plus, I've no doubt that Glynda has already roughed them all up quite enough._ He took another sip from his tea, and held the cup up in front of his face, giving it a rather disappointed look. "There are some days when I wish I had something stronger around," he said.

…

The morning was coming to a close on Sunday as Blake and Yang walked silently down the road toward Cobin's shop. The girls walked side-by-side, looked straight ahead, and held closed fists. Yang also carried the clothes from the previous days shopping trip, which had been such a nice little adventure until…

"Looks like his front door is still closed," Blake said as they neared the shop, "Just want to use the skylight?"

Yang shook her head, "I don't know if you saw what I saw yesterday, but I don't think it's a good idea to just randomly drop on top of him from the sky anymore. Especially right after everything that happened."

Blake nodded in agreement, "Are we going to talk about it?" she asked.

"Talk about what?" Yang said, pretending she didn't understand.

"Come on, Yang," Blake said, looking over at her teammate, "You just said it yourself, you saw what he did to that guy yesterday."

Yang sighed, "Yeah, I did. But I also know that, that guy had it coming. And Rocco isn't the bad guy in this situation."

"I'm not arguing that," Blake said, "I just…" she shook her head, trying to get a handle on her thoughts, "I just think it's time we really get him to talk about what he did before he came here."

"Yeah, well. Now's our opportunity." Yang said, as they stepped onto the short driveway.

The clothes had been recovered despite the unfortunate way that the shopping trip had ended, and Yang had decided that they should deliver them to Rocco that morning. Yang had wanted them all to go and do it as a team, but they had been unable to get Ruby out of bed; she was either literally too exhausted from Saturday to get up, or she was faking it because she didn't want to. Either way, Yang didn't blame her. Weiss had agreed to stay back and keep a watchful eye over their leader, leaving just Yang and Blake to make the trip.

"Okay, let's get this thing open," Yang said as she dropped the bag to the ground and squatted down to grab the handles on the garage door. Even before the door opened, she could tell just how loudly the music inside was playing because she could hear the bass and feel it in the vibrations emanating from the door. When the door rolled up and the inside of the shop was revealed, both girls got wide-eyed and froze.

" _...And drop the attitude,_

 _Why you acting like that little sticky pass is some kind of rite of passage, dude?_

 _Keep rapping 'till you get discovered,_

 _but better believe it's the last time we ever see each other_

' _cause you played yourself…"_

The inside of the shop was absolutely trashed. Tools were strewn about, all over the counters and floor; all of the rolling tool cabinets were on their side, scattered about the place; pieces of wood and metal were littered about; even some of the heavier appliances that had been bolted to the floor had been uprooted. Yang and Blake couldn't even believe what they were seeing.

"Rocco…" Yang said hesitantly, just loud enough to cut through the music, "You home, buddy?"

Several seconds passed, and there was no response.

"There!" Blake said, pointing to the back of the room.

Yang looked, and sure enough, back up against the wall exactly opposite of where they were standing, there appeared to be a figure slumped over on his side. Neither Blake nor Yang hesitated, and rushed into the shop toward him. After they had crossed the short distance, they found Cobin, completely passed out and surrounded by empty bottles. There was an empty handle of a gin, and a broken whisky bottle, as well as an uncountable number of beer bottles, surrounding him like a glass nest of regrets. Yang knelt down to get a closer look at her friend; she could see that he was breathing but his face looked positively sickly, he was very green and pale, and drool trickled out of his mouth.

" _Damn,_ " Yang said, "he wasn't kidding yesterday."

"Is he alright?" Blake asked, peering over Yang's shoulder.

Yang nodded, "Yeah, but he's going to be in a lot of pain when he wakes up."

Suddenly, Cobin grumbled, causing Yang to shuffle back a bit. " _Five… five more minutes…"_ he muttered out, the words falling from his mouth in the most sloppy way possible.

"God, is he _still_ drunk?" Blake asked.

Yang raised an eyebrow, "I don't know…" she said. She moved forward again and patted the big old soldier on the cheek. Cobin rustled a bit at the touch, and began grumbling again. Yang took this as a positive response, and kept patting him until Cobin finally muttered out…

" _Fuck you, mom."_

"Oh yeah," Yang said, "he's still drunk."

"Well, what do we do? We can't just leave him like this…" Blake said.

Yang shook her head, "Alright, go into the wash room and start filling up the wash basin."

Blake nodded, and without another word walked past Yang and into the small wash room. After several moments, Yang could hear the water start running.

"Alright, you fat mother fucker," Yang said, grabbing Cobin by the shoulders and sitting him upright, "Let's get you cleaned up."

And throughout all this time, the music still played….

"... _Girl please, don't treat me like you'd treat a toy,_

 _you wouldn't look twice if I was the pizza boy…"_

Yang was a hard-hitter, no denying that. She had trained and worked extremely hard to be in the kind of physical condition she was in, and she remained confident in her ability to fight even when her Aura was depleted. Once she had Cobin sitting up-right, she got her arms under the much larger man's armpits and lifted him to his feet. By the time Blake had come back out into the main shop floor, ready to help carry the heavy soldier, Yang already had him in a fireman's carry over her shoulder.

" _...You ain't gotta flash me your ass and tits,_

 _I'd rather fantasise that you're a rap advocate…"_

"Wow," Blake said, a bit taken aback, "You need any help with that?"

"Nope," Yang said, smiling, "I'm good," and then she proceeded to carry Cobin past Blake and into the washroom. Blake followed her, and once they were at the back, where the wash basin was quickly filling up, Yang gracefully laid Cobin back down on the ground, and then began fiddling with his shirt. "Here, help me get this off," Yang said, looking back over her shoulder at her teammate.

" _...Look around, you see all these women?_

 _They came for the music, you came for the scenesterism…"_

"Umm…" Blake was hesitant, "We're not going to… bathe him, are we?"

"What?" Yang asked, startled, "Oh Dust no, we're just going to hydrate him a bit," she as she finished pulling his shirt over his shoulders.

When Yang looked down at the man, she saw a torso riddled with scar tissue. It was difficult to tell exactly how many instruments of death had been brought to bear on him, but it was more than either of the girls really wanted to think about for too long. Burn marks, bursting shrapnel, bullet holes, blades… just a few possibilities. Yang stared at it for longer than she would ever admit.

" _...The validating game is degrading,_

 _got me cornered at the bar to boost your ratings…"_

The song made Yang snap out of it, "Alright," she said, now I need your help to pick him up."

Neither of them said anything, about the scars or otherwise, as they lifted Cobin off the ground and turned him over, so his face would be facing the inside of the wash basin. While Blake held him up by his belt, Yang took control of his head and shoulders, and began dunking his head in the deep pool of lukewarm water that now inhabited the wash basin. She'd dunk his head under, hold it for a second or two, and then bring it back to allow him to breath. It wasn't going to make the alcohol in his blood go away any faster, but the green color did seem to be leaving his face.

" _...I'm getting too old for the trap,_

 _go wiggle that cleavage at the opening act…"_

"Is this actually helping?" Blake asked.

"Maybe, maybe not," Yang said.

"What?"

"Yes, it's helping," Yang said quickly, "I think I've been to a few more bad parties than you."

" _...Plus you smell like a bucket of Vodka,_

 _I would never put my meat sauce up in that pasta…"_

After a few more dunks, Yang pulled him away from the wash basin, and the two girls sat him down, sitting up against the wall. "Here, toss me his shirt," Yang said. Blake complied, and once the fabric was in her hands, Yang set about quickly drying him off with it, before discarding it on the floor next to him. "Okay, big guy, let's get you into bed…"

" _... The shows over, so why're you waiting by the bus_

 _Like I'm supposed to be impressed with the basics…"_

Together this time, Blake and Yang carried the man out of the washroom and through the second door, into the office space where his cot was. Yang held him up while Blake quickly went over to the bed and removed the covers.

" _... you don't believe that I don't wanna see you naked,_

 _but I'm not hanging out, take care and stay safe, kid…"_

Together, they moved him over the bed and set him down gently, with his head resting on the pillow, and then Blake threw the covers back over him. As if sensing it was time to really rest, Cobin began to move underneath the covers, pulling them closer and curling up beneath them. He grumbled a bit, but the noise didn't last for very long before he was peacefully back asleep.

" _...You played yourself!_

 _Yeah, I have actually heard someone say that to me before…"_

"So what now?" Blake asked.

"I don't know, I think we should wait a bit, make sure he doesn't hurt himself," she said.

" _...You played yourself!_

 _You realise I can clearly see your clitoris, through your jeans…"_

Yang shook her head, and squeezed her eyes shut, "Turn that music off, though. That can't be be helping him sleep," she said.

Blake nodded and went over to the desk, where Cobin's scroll had been set down. Swiftly, she opened it and hit the pause button the blaring music, and the shop was washed with peaceful silence.

" _Finally,_ " Yang whispered.

Blake took a seat at the desk, in Cobin's office chair, while Yang opted to sit on the end of the cot, just past Cobin's feet. The two girls sat in silence for several minutes, just listening to the man softly snore.

"I'm so glad Ruby wasn't here to see this," Yang said, breathing a sigh of relief. The blond girl rubbed her eyes. In all truth, she wanted to still be in bed, too. But they couldn't all be completely incapacitated.

Blake said nothing right away, she just kind of looked at Yang for several seconds, and then her facial expression became sharper, "What was all that about yesterday, with that yellow dress?"

Yang's eyes grew a bit wide. "What?" she said, looking up from her hands at Blake.

"Don't act like you don't know what," Blake said. She wasn't about to give up any ground on this one.

"Look…" Yang said, but she had to pause, "I just wanted to know how I looked in it, it wasn't a big deal," she said.

"It seemed like a big deal," Blake said, "And you could have asked anyone. Why not an employee? Why not one of us? Why go all the way from the back of the store, to the very front of it to ask _him_?"

Yang closed her eyes again, she could feel the headache building. She really was too tired for this. She opened her eyes again, and looked directly at Blake, "You're really just not going to let up on this are you?"

Blake sat back in the chair, and crossed her arms, "Absolutely not," she said.

"Gah. Alright," Yang made an exasperated noise, and then diverted her gaze, looking to the side and down at the ground, "You know…" she started, "Guys our age are assholes. All of them. It would just be so nice, just for once, to be treated like an _adult_ by an _adult._ You get that?"

Blake just raised an eyebrow, "Umm…."

"Oh, right, I forgot," Yang said, "You've got Monkey Boy. No offense to him or anything."

Blake shrugged, "It's an apt description," she said.

"Yeah, but he's a nice guy," Yang said.

"Don't try and change the subject," Blake said.

Yang sighed, "Look, I'm not _into_ Rocco or anything," she said, looking over at the man sleeping next to her, "It would just be nice to feel like… I was on _his level,_ you know?"

Blake uncrossed her arms, "I think I feel that way too," she said, "but in a different way than you do."

Now it was Yang's turn to raise an eyebrow, "Oh?"

Blake nodded, "You know about my past, right? Everything that's happened with me and the White Fang?" She shook her head, "I can't explain it, but for some reason it's really, _really_ important to me that _he_ takes it seriously. That he knows about it. But I haven't told him yet."

"Well," Yang said, "We haven't known him for very long, relatively. But it might be getting close to that time."

"Yeah… We'll see," Blake said.

They sat in silence for several more seconds, absorbed in their own thoughts. But after a while, Yang said, "I think he's out like a light. Let's just get out of here," she yawned.

"Sounds good to me," Blake said.

They stood, and made their way to the exit of the office. Yang let Blake go first, and then turned back to take one last look at the sleeping man before she followed her teammate toward the front door. They put the bag of clothes just inside of the garage door's threshold, on a spot on the ground devoid of the rubble that Cobin had left in his wake. They both reached up and pulled the old creaky door back down, sealing off the disaster zone. But when they turned back around, there was a surprise waiting for them...

"Good morning, students," Professor Ozpin said, sipping his tea, "Didn't expect to see you here."

Both Yang and Blake jumped a bit when they saw him. It still amazed them both how the man simply seemed to… appear.

"Good morning to you to, professor," Blake said, once she had recovered from the startle. Yang Just nodded. "What brings you here this morning?" Blake asked.

"Well, I figured after a good night's rest, it would be a good time to come and check in our friend. I've been meaning to have a chat with him since yesterday," Ozpin said.

Yang and Blake's eyes got wide simultaneously "NO!" They shouted in unison.

Ozpin was a bit taken aback, "Please, do explain," he said, looking skeptical.

"Well, you see," Yang said, scratching the back of her head, "He's a bit… incapacitated."

"Oh, Dust," Ozpin said, shaking his head at them, "What did you two do?"

They both got red in the face, "We didn't do anything!" Yang said, "He's just… still recovering from the events of yesterday."

"Professor, please," Blake said, cutting in, "This one time, take our word for it, and give it another day before you go in there."

Ozpin sighed, he took a sip of his tea and stared at the space beyond the two girls for a moment, thinking it over. "Alright, Miss Belladonna, this one time," he said after several seconds of silence, "I know you two girls only have the best of intentions, but please, I urge you to be careful, and not lose sight of why you are here."

"Of course, professor," Blake said.

"And one more thing before you go," he started, "I shouldn't have to remind you two of the Beacon policy about fraternization between instructors and students, do I?" The question may have been verbally directed at both of them, but Ozpin was looking directly at Yang when he said it.

"No, Professor," Yang said.

"I thought not," Ozpin said, "Alright you two, run along and I'll do the same, I'm sure the three of us yelling at each other right outside his door is not good for Sergeant Cobin's rest."

Blake and Yang nodded, and without any other words walked past the headmaster and down the driveway. They were maybe a half a block away before they no longer felt his eyes on the back of their heads.

"Close save," Yang said, once they were getting closer to their dorm building.

"No kidding," Blake said, "It would have been a very bad day if Ozpin had found him like we had."

Yang just shook her head, "Well, let's just be glad it didn't work out that way."

"He did say something yesterday about Serendipity liking him a whole lot," Blake said, "I wish we could borrow some of that."

Yang laughed, "I think this whole place could use a bit more of that," she said.

When they pushed the door to their room open, they found Weiss sitting alone at her desk, but Ruby was completely absent from the space.

"What the…" Yang said, scanning frantically for her sister, "Weiss!"

The silver-haired girl looked up from her homework with a tired, apathetic expression, "What?" she asked, as if someone had just interrupted her at the opera.

"Where's Ruby!?" Yang shouted at her teammate.

Yang was unperturbed, "I don't know, I went to the bathroom and when I came back out she was gone."

"You were supposed to be looking after her! Why didn't you at least call us?"

Weiss shrugged, "Hey, Ruby's a big girl. She won't get herself into any trouble she can't get herself out of. And she is our leader, you know." And without another word, Weiss turned her attention back to her studies, and began scribbling notes again.

Yang took a deep breath, her big-sister reflexes were cooling down, and she was coming to her senses. "That's right," she said to herself, "Ruby's fine."

Blake put her hand on Yang's shoulder, "Don't think about it too much," she said, "Sometimes people just need time to themselves."

…

When Cobin finally awoke and opened his eyes, his vision was still quite blurry. He could tell he wasn't drunk anymore, because he could feel the hangover. Still, after everything he had put his body through in the last 24 hours, it needed a minute to run the diagnostics and make sure all systems were green. He propped himself up on one arm, and rubbed his eyes. When he opened them again the first thing he saw was a ball of brown and red fabric staring back at him from his office chair. Ruby was silent, sitting on the chair with her legs tucked into her chest and her head down, peering at him through the space between her knee caps. When their eyes met they just looked at eachother for a long moment. Then Cobin shook his head, and sat all the way up, swinging his legs over the side of the cot, and draped his covers around his shoulders like a cloak as he did, leaving only his grey, pale face and messy hair exposed.

He breathed deeply, "How long have you been there for?" he asked.

"A while." Ruby said quietly, without lifting her head.

"How did I get into bed?"

Ruby shook her head, "I don't know."

Cobin nodded, "What time is it?" he asked.

"A bit past nine," Ruby said.

" _Oh my god,_ " Cobin said, turning his head up to look at the ceiling, "I can't even remember the last time I felt this awful." He looked back down, meeting Ruby's eyes again, "How's the shop look?"

"Not good," she said.

"Hmm. Figured." He shook his head back and forth, trying to wake up a bit more. "So, what're you doing here, Rubes?" he tried to force a smile, but the energy just wasn't there.

"I… I wanted to make sure you were alright," she said, picking her head up for the first time.

"Oh, you don't gotta worry about me being alright, Ruby," Cobin said, "I'll be fine. You need to focus on taking care of yourself. It was a bad thing that happened." Cobin searched for some more words, or maybe a facial expression that would bring some comfort to the situation, but found none.

Without saying anything else, Ruby got out of the chair, and walked over to the cot. She sat down next to Cobin, and leaned against him, resting her head against his shoulder. The two of them simply remained like that for a very long moment. And it was one of the most peaceful moments that either of them had enjoyed for a very long time. "You saved my life," Ruby said, still very quiet.

Cobin sighed, "No I didn't," he said, "You've got that Aura of yours, remember? You would have been fine. I'm just a hyperactive old man."

"You need to stop doing that," Ruby said.

"Stop what?" Cobin asked.

"Removing yourself like that," there was a bit of frustration in the girl's voice, like she might cry if this went on for too long, "It's okay to be human every once in awhile, you know."

Cobin took a moment to take in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Is it bad that my reaction is always to not be?"

"Yes," Ruby said, "But I'm going to fix that."

"Hmm," was all Cobin could think of to say.

"Rocco?"

"Yeah?"

"Who is Sergeant Groth?"

Cobin's eyes got wide, "How… how do you know that name?"

"You kept saying it in your sleep," Ruby said. She nervously wrung her hands and fidgeted a bit as she spoke.

For the first time since the girl had come and sat down next to him, Cobin turned his head and looked down at her, where she rested against him. "Ruby…" he said, but he paused, "That's…. that's one of those stories you're going to have to let me keep to myself for now."

She turned her head, meeting his eyes even at the uncomfortable angle. "Okay," she said, "But promise you'll tell me someday?"

"Ruby, someday I'll _have_ to," Cobin said, "Trust me."

…

 **Song- "You Played Yourself" by Atmosphere.**

 **Hey everybody, I hope that nobody has lost interest in this story in its absence, it's been a crazy week for me and this is probably how the rest of my weeks for the foreseeable future will look. But I'm glad I was able to get this chapter finished when I did, this one is important to me.**

 **In the meantime between my updates here, if you're antsy and can't get enough of bad ass soldiers from Earth rocking it in Remnant, you can always go and read my main man Resolution's story, "Legends Scatter," he's quite a bit more prolific than I am and has been updating almost everyday for the past week if you can believe it. He's got great OC's, does great action sequences, and is a first class world builder. Give his story a try if you haven't already.**

 **And yes, I still don't really plan on doing any relationships in this fic… but unrequited infatuation is another matter entirely ;)**

 **Love y'all. Thanks for reading.**

 **-Wahs.**


	16. Sunshine

After having spent in excess of 24 hours in bed, Cobin was actually fairly restless when he woke up on Monday morning. After opening his eyes, and taking in the ceiling for a minute or two, he sat up slowly and pulled his hands from under the covers. For some time, he simply stared at them, this small vibration in them that was only visible to a trained eye. The bandage on his hand remained, but now the gauss looked more worn, peeling back in places where it had succumb to water, sweat, chemicals, and personal violence. Surprisingly though, there was no longer any pain underneath it. Cobin decided he would leave the bandage be for another day, not wanting to risk the health of his good hand on faith in medical technology he had no personal experience with.

He raised his head and looked around the small room. He was alone. He couldn't remember exactly what time he had fallen back asleep, or what time he and Ruby had stopped talking, but he did recall her saying she was going to stay the night and Cobin insisting that she go back to her dorm. Thankfully, it looked as though the girl had followed his instructions. The office space was completely untouched from his tantrum, but he already knew that whatever state the main shop area was in would take a long time for him to get straight again. He sighed, and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Then the music started again…

 _Now when my mother died, I had to take it in stride,_

 _There ain't no room for pride in watching your father cry…_

Cobin shook his head, trying to make it go away, but it was no use. The music always had to play. He stood and let the covers fall off the bed as he did. He still didn't have a shirt on, and whoever had been generous enough to move him into bed had neglected to remove his boots and -understandably- his pants. He had this all too familiar feeling of simply existing in his own ooze, which is something that he had sort of taken comfort it when he was young and full of "Hooah," but when you start to bank down the wrong side of 30 and you're still in the Army, your whole attitude moves toward cynicism with it.

 _...And dad made it until maybe, a year later,_

 _when they found his suicide inside of a grain elevator…_

He went and cleaned himself up quickly, only taking a moment to pause to look at the destruction while moving between the office and wash room. He changed into a fresh work uniform, and as he did, he thought about all those nice new clothes he had left behind in the wake of the bombing. He didn't expect it too, but the thought made him really sad. When he finished getting dressed, he immediately resigned himself to a day of cleaning and damage control in the wake of his personal natural disaster. But then, as it normally did at these times, his scroll began to buzz.

 _...Got over it, had no other offers or options,_

 _thought about whether or not, mom and pop was watching…_

He pulled the device from his pocket and opened it, revealing one of Professor Goodwitch's short and sweet messages: _**Counseling, today, ASAP. Very busy. -Goodwitch.**_ "Right," Cobin said to himself, "it's always something." He put the device back in his pocket and walked into the main floor of the shop to get a better look at the damage. Looking around the large room, he really got the full picture of how much he had been able to do in his short, drunken rage. It amazed him, but only slightly; the military's most dangerous weapon is a solider with a handle of Fireball.

 _...Never bothered with caution, no time for fear,_

 _Saw my folks carry fear for most my early years…_

Goodwitch had packed a whole lot of serious into her relatively short message, so Cobin decided it was best to deal with the mess later and make his way to the Clocktower. He treaded carefully over the floor of the shop, not knowing what was lying around that could sprain, stab, or otherwise fuck up his day. But when he got near to the door, he paused as something out-of-place caught his eye in the corner of his vision.

 _...And I learned from it, turned numb and ignored the storm,_

 _a burning sun waiting for the world to plummet…_

He couldn't believe his eyes as he approached the shopping bag that was sitting just within the threshold of the shop. It looked exactly like the one that the kid behind the counter at the clothes store had packed his new things in, but it couldn't be. As Cobin leaned over the bag and peered inside, his spirits rose quite considerably; it was in fact the clothes that he was sure had been lost in the blast, all still -relatively- nicely folded in the bag. He thought that he would probably have to buy a beer for a whoever had brought him his things and gotten him into bed after his bender. But then, after a moment of pondering, he quickly realized who it probably was. _Well, at least she didn't take my pants off,_ Cobin thought, sighing.

… _Finished growing up under my uncle's roof,_

 _he taught me how to count all the way up to 100 proof…_

After putting the bag of clothes away in his office space, Cobin made his way out of the shop and down the street, making sure to seal off the disaster zone behind him. He couldn't exactly be sure what hour of the morning it was, but the sun was still relatively low in the sky. The normal Monday movement seemed to be absent, and as Cobin walked through empty plazas and outdoor seating areas he realized it was probably in the middle of the period, and all students would be in class. Cobin figured the place would feel strange and eerie, but in reality it was just sort of peaceful. This world he was in defied all known laws of reality; nothing should go from explosions and violence to peace and silence this quickly. But Cobin just shrugged it off and allowed himself a small smile as he approached the clock tower.

 _...From watching him I learned how to gather nourishment,_

 _living off the different women that he had to nurture him…_

The elevator ride up to Goodwitch's office seemed longer than normal. Cobin knew a thing or two about counseling and at the very least he thought it was supposed to be on a _regular schedule,_ not just whenever the counselor in question got frustrated enough to make time for it. He figured that this had something particular to do with all of the happenings from Saturday. When Goodwitch had met them at the Air Hub, she had said little, been quiet, and spoke directly. No punishment and no berating was issued on the spot, and honestly, that scared Cobin more than what he had expected from the woman. He remembered very clearly what Goodwitch had said about what would happen if his presence here began interfering with the education of the students…

 _...And on the surface I became a normal pre-teen,_

 _More afraid of nuclear war than snake bites and bee stings…_

As he stepped through the threshold leading into the Professor's office, Cobin shook off all of those negative thoughts. Nothing good would come out of it if he didn't approach this situation in a neutral fashion.

 _...My best friend was my TV_

 _game shows and cartoons substituted for puppies, rainbows, and balloons..._

"Good morning, Sergeant Cobin," Goodwitch said from behind her desk at the other end of the room, "How are you today?"

 _...Now here I am, the shy type, and I think I'm doing alright,_

 _Considering what it was like living my life…_

"Oh it's all sunshine, nothing but sunshine," He said.

Goodwitch nodded, her neutral facial expression unchanging, "Come have a seat, Sergeant," she said, pointing to a chair in front of the desk, already there and waiting for him.

Cobin made his way through the narrow obstacle course that was the Professor's office and took a seat in the chair once he reached it. He sat with his back straight, hands on his lap, and looked Goodwitch eyes, "So, this has something to do with the mess I made on Saturday, right?" he asked.

"In part," Goodwitch said. She reached under her desk and pulled up what appeared to be a lunchbox, "I haven't eaten in thirty-two-point-five hours, would you mind terribly if I…"

"Not at all," Cobin said, smiling, before Goodwitch could finish her sentence.

The woman finally smiled at him, but only slightly. "Thank you," she said, opening the little tote. She peered into it for a second, and gave it a questioning look before pulling out a sandwich that was very disorderly wrapped in plastic. "So, Sergeant, we're going to be rather brief today, and I'll cut to the chase," she said, unwrapping the sandwich while maintaining eye contact with him, "The Chief of the police department in Vale was rather… perturbed by the way you handled the fugitives from the bombing. Now, nobody's questioning that they're terrorists, and that they needed to be stopped, but what is being questioned is whether or not the force you used was necessary, and…" the professor had to pause for a moment, "whether or not you may have, 'lost control,' so to speak."

Cobin nodded, "Pretty legitimate concerns," he said, "To be honest, I was a bit surprised to. I was wary of holding back because my understanding was that I was fighting people with abilities that I don't have. I figured the Auras of those guys would have done a better job protecting them."

"Well you see, not everyone has an Aura," Goodwitch said, taking a bite from her sandwich.

Cobin was a bit taken aback, "What? But… but you said…?"

"What I said was that everyone has the _potential_ to generate an Aura, and even when it is achieved it is like a _muscle_ and must be constantly exercised and improved to be effective," Goodwitch said, smirking slightly, "A group of random terrorists or street thugs? Probably not that dedicated to improving their spiritual energy."

"That… would have been nice to know," Cobin said, sighing.

"But that's not the end of it," Goodwitch said, getting serious again, "Sergeant, do you believe that at any point in the altercation, you lost control of yourself, and acted completely and entirely on emotion?"

"Yes," Cobin said. There was no hesitation, and no cowering in his tone of voice. "There was a moment when I lost control, undoubtedly, completely," he said, maintaining steady eye contact with Goodwitch, "And if the girls hadn't shown up when they did, I probably could not have stop myself from killing that guy completely."

'Taken Aback' wasn't an emotion or any sort of physical action that Goodwitch ever expressed, but she did sit slightly back in her chair when Cobin said this. "That's very… honest of you, Sergeant," she said.

Cobin shrugged, "Honesty is all I've got," he said, "Nothing is more important than providing you with all of the information you need to make an informed decision, for their sake."

Goodwitch cocked her head to the side a bit, "For the girls' you mean?"

"Yes," Cobin said.

Goodwitch sighed, and then did something that she did very rarely, and never allowed another person to bare witness too; slowly, she raised her hand to her face, and removed her glasses, placing them gently down on the desk. The Professor rubbed her eyes once, before looking up at Cobin again. "The police chief said in his call that he had never in his life seen anything like what you did to those bombers. And I'm going to be honest, Sergeant Cobin, I haven't either," she said, "I want you to know that in this short span of time you have been here, you've made an impact that I would never have fathomed when you arrived. You've improved this campus, and I see no reason why you shouldn't continue to do so. But Sergeant, I have to know, _what happened to you,_ back on your own world?"

"Professor Goodwitch…" Cobin stopped, and looked at the ground for a moment, shaking his head before bringing it back up to meet the professor's eyes, "A war isn't like a battle, it's not something I can summarize over lunch. I don't even think it's something I'll be able to summarize over the course of my entire life. But I guarantee you, if you give me enough time, you'll learn way more than you ever wanted to know." Cobin paused for a moment, and let that sink in before continuing, "Professor, I don't know for sure what the very limit of human cruelty looks like, but I know for fact, just by looking in your eyes, that I've been a lot closer to it than you have. Everyday of my life all I'm doing is trying to get further and further away from that, the very edge of that abyss that is what one man can to do another when pushed far enough. I don't want to know what it looks like anymore. I don't want it to be a part of me anymore," His gaze into Goodwitch's eyes suddenly seemed a lot more intense, "But at the end of the day, it's your call whether or not that makes me safe enough to be around your students."

Goodwitch nodded, and then retrieved her glasses from their resting spot on her desk and put them back on her face. She rose from her chair slowly, before saying, "Please, follow me, Sergeant."

Cobin nodded, and rose from his seat as well before following the Professor back through her office, and out the door. Without a word, Goodwitch led him back through the hall and to the main central elevator. When the door opened, it was empty, and the two of them stepped inside. "Time to go to the top," Goodwitch said, before pushing the very final button on the panel inside of the small metal box.

Cobin leaned against the back wall of the elevator, and folded his arms. He felt the thing jolt as it began slowly moving to the uppermost floor, as it did, Cobin turned to look at Goodwitch. "So how long have you been married for?"

For the very first time since Cobin had known her, the woman looked genuinely shocked, and even seemed to lose her balance for a second as the impact of the question hit her, "What? What are you talking about?" She asked, getting a bit angry at first, but then her facial expression softened again, and she shook her head, "I suppose you're a difficult person to hide those sort of things from. But I must ask, Sergeant, how'd you know?"

Cobin smiled at her, "People rarely _scoff_ at food that they make and pack for themselves, and it's not the sort of thing that you have a coworker do for you. Also, if it was just a boyfriend or something you probably wouldn't have bothered to try and eat it," Cobin chuckled a bit, "it's the small things," he said.

Goodwitch allowed herself a small laugh, "Yes it is," she said. She sighed, "Ten years. I've been married ten years."

Cobin whistled, "Hmm, I can see it. Is he a Huntsman?"

"Oh _God_ no," Goodwitch said, "These people are my coworkers, they're amazing scholars and warriors, but I could _not_ have one in my home. They're all insane."

Cobin laughed, "I can tell," he said, "So what does he do?"

" _She's_ an artist," Goodwitch said, she smiled to herself, thinking about it, "To our world, there is little that is more important than art, and the people that dare to create it. Even on my worst days, she always finds a way to calm me down. People say Auras and Semblances are like magic, but that's the real magic to me."

"Good, that's really good," Cobin said, "So why do you hide it?"

The smile dropped from Goodwitch's face, and she returned to her normal stoic expression. "Despite what Huntresses and Huntsman do in defense of humanity as a whole, there will always be people that see our existence as disruptive to their personal goals. Especially at the level of an instructor or administrator at a major combat school. I'm sure you can understand that."

Cobin nodded, "Of course. Operational security," he said.

"Exactly, sergeant," Goodwitch sighed, "The name of every instructor and major staff member here at this academy is on, not just one, but several _lists_ that we really wouldn't like to be on. And the people that are close to us are not immune from those lists either," she said, "Would I like to wear a ring, and cover my desk in pictures of me and my wife? Of course, but it's not worth her safety." She turned, and looked Cobin in the eye, "I don't know if this has really occurred to you yet or not, but you're probably on some of those lists now too. I'd recommend you take some time to think about what that really means, Sergeant."

"Trust me, Professor," Cobin said, "I do."

The door to the elevator opened, revealing the massive expanse of space that was the penthouse office of the Beacon Clocktower. Save for the all of the turning and clinking cogs suspended far above the ground, and a grey-hair professor sitting calmly behind a large desk at the very back of the room, it was mostly empty. The expanse of space between the elevator and the desk seemed like a no-man's land, exposing all of those who crossed it to the deadly fire of Ozpin's gaze. And sure enough, when the door opened, Ozpin's eyes were already square on Sergeant Cobin.

As he and Goodwitch exited the elevator and began the walk toward the desk, Cobin kept his back and straight and his eyes forward, but internally he was reeling at the psychological impact the place was having on him. He had never felt as though one man had controlled a space so large so effortlessly before. Nobody spoke until him and Goodwitch had reached the desk, and stood side by side awaiting the professor's instructions.

He turned to Goodwitch first, "You're evaluation, Glynda?" he asked.

Goodwitch nodded, "He's good," she said.

Ozpin turned his attention to Cobin, "So, Sergeant, how are you feeling?"

"Never better, Professor," Cobin said.

Ozpin raised an eyebrow, "Oh really? Because it looks like you had quite a time with some of the valuable merchandise provided by one of my employees down at the staff cafeteria. What's his name? Manny?"

Cobin's eyes got wide, he didn't want to be the one to rat Manny out. "Umm… uh…" he said, stumbling.

"It's alright, Sergeant," Ozpin said, "I can't fire the man, there would be a goddamn riot."

"I… I see," Cobin said.

Ozpin nodded, "But that's not what I brought you here today to talk about," he said, "Sergeant, when I advanced you the money to go out and buy some more suitable attire for a work enviorment, did it at any point occur to you that my motivation might have been more than pure generosity?"

"Yes, it did," Cobin said.

"Good man," Ozpin said, "My staff and I have been watching your interactions with the students over the past couple of weeks, and we have observed an almost universally positive impact that you have had on campus, particularly in relation to student behavior. After a bit of deliberation, it has been decided that you should become a real member of the Academic Staff here at the academy, and have a job that demands regular interaction with the students. How do you feel about this?"

"Well, I'm very honored," Cobin said, "But to be honest, I'm not exactly sure what I could bring to the table as a teacher here. The fighting styles used by your students are much more advanced than those I'm familiar with."

"And that's exactly why you wouldn't be a teacher, per-say," Ozpin said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "Instead, you would have all of the authority and power as an expert-level instructor, but your soul job would be to correct student behavior and educate students on the rules and policies of the campus. You would be our first official 'Disciplinary Officer,' and would take a very serious load off of my overworked assistant here," he said, nodding toward Goodwitch.

"I understand," Cobin said.

Ozpin seemed skeptical, "Now, Sergeant, this would be a real job, not like the 'work' that occasionally falls into your lap over at the shop. You would have regular office hours, just like all of the teachers here, and it would be your job to create files on all of students requiring disciplinary action, keep track of their behavior, and find ways to correct that behavior that don't interfere with their education. Do you think you can handle that?"

Cobin chuckled a bit, "Professor, I was a Non-Commissioned-Officer in the military. When I wasn't deployed, that's literally _all I did._ "

Ozpin smiled, satisfied by this answer, "Good, Sergeant. I do hope that through your methods, the educational experience that we offer here can continue to improve."

"But there is one little thing, though," Cobin said.

Ozpin suddenly looked hesitant, "What's that?" he asked.

"I'd like to keep my shop, if at all possible," Cobin said, "I've grown sort of attached."

The relaxed expression returned to Ozpin's face, "It's yours Sergeant. I'll even have some student-proof locks installed in that skylight if you wish," he said.

Cobin laughed, "Oh, I don't think there will be a need for that," he said, "So when do I get started?"

Goodwitch turned, and smiled at him, "Right now, Sergeant."

…

 **Wow, so it's been over two weeks. If anyone even remembers my existence at this point, I will be amazed.**

 **Just a little something I wanted to get done while I had a minute, but in reality even on a quiet weekend like this, I'm writing this story on borrowed time that I'm going to have to pay back in the form of a couple hours of sleep. My life is overwhelmingly crazy, and it's taking all of my effort just to hold it together at this point, but I love this story and these characters too much to give up on it completely. Keep on the lookout for more adventures of Cobin & Friends, and I'll do my best to bring more chapters to you. **

**Today's song is "Nothing But Sunshine" By [you guessed it] Atmosphere.**

 **Thanks For Reading!**

 **-Wahs.**


	17. Stories

"That is AWESOME!" Ruby said, as she threw herself forward towards Cobin, as she normally did. Once again he had to reach out and grab her as she made impact and wrapped her arms around his neck. At this point, the old soldier was fairly certain that the bruising on his chest would never fully heal. "Oof!" is an approximation of the noise he made as all the wind was forced out of his lungs.

"Ruby, it will definitely be less of a celebration if you break all of his ribs and kill him," Yang said, laughing.

"Oh, right. Sorry," the girl said sheepishly as she released and let herself drop to her feet in front of Cobin. "But still that's so cool!"

"Thanks," Cobin said, smiling at her as he rubbed the point of impact on his chest, "I definitely wasn't expecting it." He had run into the two half-sisters in the common area in front of the main combat arena while on his walk back from The Clocktower. They were on their lunch break and everyone else had decided to break off into their special duos, so it had left the two single ladies with nothing but each other's company for the time being.

"So how much sway did they give you exactly?" Yang asked, curious.

"Expert-Level-Instructor," Cobin said, "Whatever that means."

Yang's and Ruby's eyes got wide. "That's... a lot of sway," Ruby said.

"No kidding," Yang said, "I think there's only one 'Exxy' for the first year students, Oobleck, because he's got his doctorates. It's sort of a big deal."

"No shit?" Cobin said, "Well, I guess that means I can't mess up then."

"Oh yeah," Yang said, "I couldn't thread a needle through your margin for error."

Ruby nodded, "But on the brightside, that means Ozpin trusts you, like _really_ trusts you. And it'll be hard for you to break that," she said.

"Ozpin's a genius," Yang said, "But he does this thing where he makes an ultimate determination about someone in the first five minutes of knowing them and then very rarely changes his mind. The good news though, is that he's usually right."

"Yeah, I always sort of had that feeling from him," Cobin said. This new information had caused a bit of nervousness to creep up the back of his spine, but he mentally shook it off and made the internal determination that Ozpin and Goodwitch had made the right choice when they gave him this job. "So, how're your classes going these days?" he asked, changing the subject.

Yang and Ruby groaned collectively. "Exhausting," the younger sister said.

"Mhm," Yang affirmed, "in a few weeks there's this thing happening called the Vital Festival. Big celebration of art, culture, yada yada. You get the idea. Anyway, part of it is a huge combat tournament between all of the Academies like Beacon."

Cobin raised an eyebrow. "Interesting way to celebrate culture and art," he said.

Yang shrugged, "Fighting is an art. In theory at least," she said.

"Guess I can't argue with that," Cobin said, "But what does it have to do with your classes?"

"Well, you see," Ruby started, "while it's not mandatory that all the of the first year teams compete, it is _highly recommended._ "

"Oh I get it. _Voluntold,_ right?"

"Pretty much," Yang said.

"So anyway," Ruby began again, "a lot of our normal academic oriented classes have been put on hold for extra practice time in the arenas and simulations." Ruby sighed, "Don't get me wrong, fighting is fun, but going to bed sore every night is definitely not."

"Trust me, I don't have to imagine it," Cobin said, shaking his head as he remembered the many days and nights he had spent at pre-deployment training, which was often way worse than the actual deployment.

"So when do you start with this whole Disciplinary Officer gig?" Yang asked.

"Ozpin wanted me to set up my office this afternoon, but I told him that I'd have to do it in the morning tomorrow so I could, you know, _fix up the shop._ " Cobin said.

Ruby and Yang both nodded, knowing about the blast zone that his living space had recently become. "So before Wednesday you'll be open for business," Yang said, "Better get cracking on all of the rules I wanted to break before you're ready to punish me for them," she said, giving a sly smile.

Cobin laughed, but cut himself off quickly. "Hey now, you girls know that I can't be playing favorites. This is a serious job, and I'm going to to take it seriously. If you don't want to suffer my wrath, don't do anything to bring it upon yourselves, understand?"

"Of course!" Ruby said, smiling up at him.

"Yeah, we got you," Yang said, "We don't get up to too much trouble," she said, playfully punching her sister in the shoulder.

"I'm _sure,_ " Cobin said, definitely not completely believing them, "Well, I've got to run along and get my mess cleaned up, so I'll see you to on the flip-side, sound good?"

"Yep!" Ruby said. Yang just nodded and smiled.

"Oh, and hey," Cobin as he was backing away, "Just because I'm your instructor now doesn't mean you're not welcome at my shop when you want or need to be there. Just keep it low-key, right?"

"You know it!" Yang said.

…

Once Cobin was back at the shop, and had closed the door behind him, he spent a solid minute or two just gazing at the mess he had managed to make. It was incredible, and just looking at it was making him tired as he tried to piece together in his mind as to how he was going to sort through it. The lift was intact, thank god. But the tools that had been previously so nicely stored and arranged absolutely littered the ground, along with many pieces of nondescript debris. He assumed that the many chips of wood scattered about the place had once been his much loved sitting crate, but he would never know for sure. There were shards of glass too, of course, broken beer bottles and remnants of the one of the high side windows that probably had had something chucked through it at some point. After a bit of deliberation, his mind organized the plan of action as such: get all the tools and anything else useful and intact off the floor and onto the counters so he could simply sweep away the debris and garbage, than go from there. That task alone would take up enough of his afternoon. Cobin sighed and pulled out his scroll, setting himself up with some tunes for the work ahead.

" _To my surprise, discovered that I really don't know much_

 _and most of much of what I do know catches a 'what?'"_

The work was tedious, but with the music blaring and Cobin's innate ability to put on the autopilot and become absorbed in his thoughts made the time move a bit faster as he located all of the tools and removed them from the floor. He thought a lot about his new job, and how he was going to deal with this newfound responsibility. Thinking about it logistically, he could probably handle it in much the same way he handled being a Staff NCO and a Platoon Sergeant while "in garrison," more or less just keeping records on the trouble makers and ensuring they got taught the lessons they needed to not continuously fuck up. But this school was a very different culture than the Army, and although he had already adapted to it well enough, he knew that he had a lot to learn.

" _...I'm still living this life, trying to escape the problems,_

 _Quick and quiet at night, just like the insects and the goblins…"_

And of course, there was this predicament of this select group of students that he had insanely managed to befriend in his short time here. He knew that, at least while at work, his relationship with them would now have to be more professionally focused, and he wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. At the very least, though, it would stop any of them from making an attempt to sleep with him. And that was a Godsend.

" _... it's the gas fumes, the fast food, yo it's all of the above,_

 _it's meetin' women for a weekend and falling deep in love…"_

There was a broom and a dustpan in the back of the washroom, and once Cobin was fairly certain all of the tools were off the floor he went back and retrieved them. But when he came back out of the washroom, ready to get back to work, there was a surprise waiting for him.

" _...And I found myself, when I lost myself…"_

"Hey," Blake said, sitting on top of the lift, "Cleaning up?"

Cobin put the broom down and pulled out his scroll, hitting pause on the blaring music. "Yep," he said, looking back up at the student, "It's gotta happen sometime, might as well be now before I suddenly have a real job to do."

"Yeah, I heard they gave you an instructor's position," she said, "How do you feel about it?" that was Blake, she wasn't the type to simply offer a 'congrats' and a smile.

Cobin rested his hands on his hips and sighed, "You know, it feels good," he said, "finding my place in the world, and all that."

Now she offered him one of her rare, half-smiles. "Good," she said.

"So, what brings you in today?" Cobin asked.

"I owe you a story," Blake said, "I hope you didn't forget."

Cobin smiled, "Not for a minute. Care to step inside my office?"

Once inside the small room, Cobin closed the door behind him and went over to the desk. He started brewing a bit of a light, mid-afternoon coffee. "Want some?" He asked.

"Yes, thank you," Blake said.

It didn't take long, and soon Blake and Cobin found themselves facing each other, with Cobin on his cot and Blake in the office chair across the room from him. They took the first couple of sips of coffee silently, enjoying the peaceful moment. "So," Cobin said, "Is this story going to include and explanation of why you use that bow to hide your ears?"

Blake's eyes got wide, "I… I uh… how? What?" she was utterly stunned.

"It's sort of given away by the fact that it never leaves your head and never seems to fall off. Also, it twitches sometimes when you're irritated," Cobin said.

Blake regained her composure and shook her head, "I'm not going to lie, it's pretty scary how you do that sometimes."

Cobin shrugged, "I've been doing it for way longer than anyone probably should, comes with the territory." This response caused Blake to don a puzzled look, but Cobin didn't give her the opportunity to question it. "So, tell me this story."

Blake sighed, and nodded. "Well, you're right, it has everything to do with this," she said, pointing to her head with a single finger, "Rocco…" she paused, unsure if she really wanted to continue, "are you familiar with The White Fang?"

"I do read the news," he said, "But I don't usually believe all of it."

"That's good," Blake said, "Back when I… associated with them, they would have never have done anything like, like…"

"A car bomb?"

"Yes. When I saw the organization start to move in that direction, to simply be overcome with a desire of revenge more than change, I broke all ties."

"And then you came here."

"Exactly," Blake suddenly seemed very focused on the universe within her cup of coffee, "But not before I did a few things that I regret."

"Nature of the business," Cobin said, "I could fill a memoir with regrets, they don't make us any less of who we are."

"Maybe," Blake said, "The day I left, destroyed any connection I had with them, we were pulling a train job."

Cobin had to raise an eyebrow, "A train job?"

"Yeah," Blake said, taking an extra big gulp of her coffee, like she was wishing there was some Bailey's hidden in there somewhere, "A Schnee Dust Company train, headed through the mountains on it's way to Vale. We were just supposed to wipe out the drone security detail and destroy the cargo. Which I'll admit, had been much standard for a while at that point. But something changed that day."

There was something on his mind, and Cobin couldn't keep himself from asking it. "You don't mean The _Schnee_ Dust Company, as in…"

"Yes," Blake said, before Cobin could even finish his thought, " _That_ Schnee Dust Company."

Cobin whistled, "That must make for an interesting team dynamic," he said.

Blake shrugged, "You said it, not me," she said.

Cobin nodded, "Okay, so go on. What changed that day?"

"A bomb," Blake said, "We always had carried explosives with us for train jobs. But the way it had worked up until that point was to simply detach the cargo cars from the engine, and put the charges on the wheels to blow them over the side of the tracks and into the ravine. But this time, the person I was working under, a guy named Adam had a different idea entirely." Blake stopped, and this unsure look overcame her face. This was one of those things that there would never stop being a twinge of guilt about.

"All of the world's worst acts begin their life as its best intentions. That's just history," Cobin said, causing Blake to finally look up and make eye contact with him for a long moment. "So what happened next?" Cobin finally asked.

Blake didn't break eye contact when she started talking now, "The explosive charge was bigger this time. Adam didn't just want to be an expense for the Schnee family anymore, he wanted total shock-and-awe. He wanted to put the entire train into the ravine, at full speed. There were at least fifty civilian crew members on board the train, none of them would have made it. So I…" Blake took a deep breath, "So I stopped him. I didn't hurt him, I didn't leave him for the wolves. But I stopped him."

Cobin nodded, "And since then have their been a lot of people that have patted you on the shoulder and said something along the lines of 'don't feel bad, you did the right thing?'" he asked.

"Too many," Blake said.

"And that's why I'm not going to do that," Cobin said, "Where I'm from, if you're in the military, you get a lot of random people that will just come up to you while you're in uniform and say some shit like 'thank you for your service.' Of course, they're trying to be courteous, but in reality all it does is make you think too damn hard about what the fuck it is you're doing in your own existence. I still don't know."

"You know, I haven't met a whole lot of other people that get that," Blake said. And for the first time since Cobin had seen her that day, the girl's muscles seemed to relax, as if she was finally comfortable again.

"Yeah, well, there aren't a whole lot of people that do," Cobin said. He paused, and took a minute to down the rest of his coffee. "You got time for me to trade you one back?" he asked, setting the empty cup down on the floor in front of him.

Blake nodded, "Always," she said.

"Okay then," Cobin paused, looking up at the ceiling, trying to figure out where to begin this one, "I was on my second deployment. It was my first time being in the field as a leader. I was a brand new Non Commissioned Officer, a Sergeant, and at the beginning I had three people underneath me. Then, two weeks after arriving in theater our squad leader caught the wrong end of a shaped charge, and suddenly I had eight people underneath me."

Blake gripped her coffee cup a little tighter, this story was already turning out a bit more intense than her's.

"We're maybe three months in, and I've had these guys with me long enough to know how to use them, and I guess I made a good impression because whenever they needed anybody to hoof it way out into the middle of nowhere, me and my team were always at the front," Cobin paused quick to make sure Blake was still following before he continued, "So one day, we get this mission, and it's pretty standard grunt shit. Just a patrol down this dirt road that runs through a rural area and passes by a few local farms. We were just supposed to soft-knock the farms, make sure people weren't harboring insurgents or anything. Ask some questions, be polite. Normal shit."

"You swear a lot more when you tell war stories," Blake said, "and what's a 'soft-knock?'"

Cobin chuckled softly, "I'm a grizzled old soldier, I get to swear as much as I want," he said, but with a smile on his face, "But a 'soft-knock' just refers to a way that we approach a situation in a hostile environment when we're more or less surrounded by civilians, most of whom are innocent bystanders. Bassically, there's soft-knock, and hard-knock. Hard knock is all-out, guns drawn, move fast, kick down doors, shoot to kill, yada yada. If you're hard-knocking it usually means you have a very specific mission and you're looking for something or someone. Most of the time it's a soft-knock approach. In a soft-knock, you're still ready to fight if it comes to that, but for the most part you're just walking around, interacting with local nationals, asking questions, getting acquainted. Most people hate it, they think it's just playing diplomat while you wait to get shot, but I never minded it so much. I thought it made the whole ordeal more human."

"Hmm," was Blake's only response.

"Anyway, moving on," Cobin continued, "So we're soft-knocking all of the houses down this stretch of road, up in the mountains, and the houses are few and far between. We're hoofing it miles between every noticeable sign of humanity, and we're not really getting anything. Then we come up on this house, and it's this little shack in this little dirt farm, with a pen around the back of it with a few goats. For the first time that day, we get invited inside, so I leave most of my guys outside to guard the perimeter and go inside with one of my TL's and our interpreter. We sit down and have tea with this dirt farmer, and it becomes apparent pretty fast that this is guy is pretty much normal, just a nice old man. He's got two daughters with him, early teens I would think. But he's got some bad news for us; he's got a son, and this son has a friend who talked him into wanting to be an insurgent to fight the infidels."

"You'll have to explain that one, too," Blake said.

"Infidels is what they called us," Cobin said, "To them -these people we were fighting- it was a religious war. They saw us as people who came to take God from them by force, and they thought of us -almost literally- as agents of Satan himself. They weren't soldiers, they weren't warriors. They were just people who hated us enough to figure out how to kill us really good."

"It's a powerful emotion," Blake said, an air of experience to her tone of voice.

"Mhm," Cobin said, "So basically, this guy lets us in on this because he thinks that we can save his son. Now, I've go no idea in the world how I'm supposed to help this guy, but I want too. I'm trying to work through all this in my head when my RTO busts through the door and tells me there's a Marine patrol a couple klicks out that needs back up in a bad way. So of course, that takes precedence, gotta go save somebody's ass. So as I'm putting my helmet back on and running out the door, this old man grabs me and shoves a photograph into my hands. It's of the whole family, including the son, and it's the only photograph he's ever owned in his life. He had to trade two bottles of goats milk for it, or at least that's what the 'terp told me. He tells me…" Cobin paused, and took in a deep breath, "he tells me that I've got to save his son, and I'll know who he is by that photograph." Cobin took a moment and looked straight up at the ceiling, blinking a few times as you might do when you first wake up.

"And then what happened?" Blake said softly after several moments.

"We weren't able to go back to the dirt farm that day, got too late, got to dark, not enough people on board after the long haul," Cobin started again, bringing his gaze down again, "But I got permission to go back the next day and investigate. Shit like this is important to commanders, because they see it as an opportunity to possibly oust an entire cell or group of insurgents in their battle space. The terrorists in training are almost always the ones who lead us to the pack."

It was very slight, but Blake did flinch at that word, even when it wasn't being applied to her. She said nothing, and Cobin pretended not to notice.

"So we get back to the dirt farm, early in the morning the next day and… it's no good," Cobin started again, unable to think of another way to say it. "When we're doing our normal perimeter check, we go around the back to the goat pen and we find them, the old man and his daughters and their goats, in the mud." Cobin stopped and took a moment to rub his face, the memory being very difficult, even for him, "You could tell that he had held his daughters close to him, keeping their faces buried in his chest so they wouldn't have to see what was about to happen before the shooting started. They killed all the goats too, and just left them there in the mud."

Blake just looked at Cobin for a long moment, unsure how to respond, "I… I'm…" she managed to get out.

"Story isn't over yet," Cobin said softly, cutting her off, "We were all still too shocked to do anything, we just stared at the scene for a minute, and eventually everyone's eyes turned back on me because I was in charge, I had to make _a decision._ Whatever the fuck that meant. But I didn't have the time to formulate one before we started taking fire from a low ridge, just above and behind the shack. 'Terp caught one in the ankle, and we had to pull him to cover, but everyone else was fine. We returned fire, advanced, popped a couple of them and the rest dropped everything and ran. Now, we gotta hike all the way the fuck up this ridge to bag and tag more dead Hajis. Awesome. I leave bravo team at the farm and take Alpha up the ridge. When we get to the top, I'm the first one at a body, so I get down, check him to make sure he isn't rigged or anything quick, and then I pull the mask off, and…" Cobin stopped, taking a moment to rub his hand over his course facial hair again, "and it's the kid in the picture, the son. I don't believe it at first, so I take out the picture the old man had given to me and compare, right there where he dropped, and sure enough, it's him."

Even Blake's stoic nature didn't rival this story, and her mouth hung slightly open as she absorbed all of this new information. "I'm… I'm… I don't know what to say," she said.

"You don't have to say anything," Cobin said, "Just know this: because I shared this story with you today, it's yours now too. You may not have experienced it, like I did, but you can learn from it what I learned from it. This story was for you and you alone, because I think you're the only one that can really understand it, and I think you know that. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"Yes. Yes, of course," Blake said, nodding her head.

Now Cobin's gaze became more intense, more focused. It was the look he had when he was instructing, when he was training. "There's a big difference between a battle and a war, Blake. And I know you're very familiar with the former, but I can almost guarantee you have no experience with the latter." His tone was not demeaning, or accusing, only honest. "That family, that bloodline, that linage had lived there on that tiny plot of land with nothing but their dirt and their goats for hundreds of years. Through good and bad times they had persisted through every generation, living simply but living honestly. All of their history, everything that they had been was simply extinguished in less than a day. And that's the difference. In war, real war, there is not good or evil. No reason. It's just the endless unnecessary destruction of the collective human soul by way of the human body. Remember that, because now you understand that you have to prevent a war at all costs; all battles, all missions, all goals should focus squarely on that intent. You do not want to go to war." He stopped, and stared deeply into the eyes of the teenager -well beyond her years- that sat before him.

"Can I ask you something?" she said, after a long moment.

"Anything," Cobin said.

"Why didn't you stop?"

The question was unexpected, and caught Cobin off guard, even in his current hardened state. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"You said that happened on your second deployment," Blake said, "How many times did you deploy?"

Cobin sighed, "More than twice," he said simply.

"That's what I thought, so why didn't you stop?"

"Why didn't you?" Cobin shot back.

Now it was Blake's turn to be thrown off her balance, "What?" she said.

"You could have walked away from the train job and probably done anything," Cobin said, "Why not a librarian? Why not a barista? Why not cubicle warrior? You and I both know why," he said, keeping his tone calm, "To some extent, I'm sure that you are driven by a need to 'atone' for what you've done, to fight the power you once obeyed. But just like me, deep inside you know you've just been doing this for too long. There's simply nowhere else for people like you and me to be in this life. No other places where our puzzle pieces fit. So we exist here, doing jobs like the ones we do and trying the be the best people we can be and making the best out of what we do. There's no point in lying to yourself about that."

"There's only thing you're wrong about, though," Blake said, she hadn't broken eye contact at all this time, "I've never lied to myself." She put her empty cup of coffee down on the desk, and stood. "Thank you," she said, and it was genuine. There was an unspoken but well known understanding between the too people in the room that the conversation was over, peacefully. So, without another word, Blake turned and exited the small office.

From where he sat on his bunk, Cobin listened to the sound of the air splitting and moving around her as she jumped up and out through the skylight, and into the evening air. "Anytime," Cobin said.

…

 **Damn! It's good to be back. Not much to report today. I'd apologize for not updating again but I think it would be arrogant for me to assume that you guys don't have lives 'n shit outside of reading this fanfiction. Carry on!**

 **-Wahs.**


	18. Fall

"Man I think I could turn this desert into an ocean with my ball sweat."

"Vogels, shut the fuck up."

It was blisteringly hot in the sleep hut at mid-day. Cobin and Vogels were the only two in there at the time, the rest of the squad was probably running around on a detail, having a smoke, the usual. Vogels was splayed out on his bunk like a ragdoll, in nothing but his boxers as he sweated through his mattress. Cobin, on the other hand, had remained mostly decent and had only removed his blouse when he went over to his desk to sit down and write a letter or two to his wife and his daughter. Writing letters wasn't his only option, but he found it therapeutic and at this point did it mostly just for himself.

"Hey man, do you mind if I cam with my girl later?" Vogels said.

"Uhh…" it was a question Cobin really had to think about, "Depends, what're you going to be doing?" he asked, almost timidly.

"Jerkin' it," Vogels said without missing a beat.

Cobin put his pen down and rubbed his face with his hand, "Oh goddamnit," he said, "Fine. I'll… take a nap or something."

"Awesome bro, I owe you one." Vogels said, sighing in relief.

Cobin turned around in his chair to look at his squadmate. "I'm pretty sure the First Sergeant wants to kill you for missing that brief this morning. It was some important shit," he said.

"Hey! My asshole was exploding! I think that's a good 'nuff excuse," Vogels retorted.

"I'm not the one you need to be explaining yourself too," Cobin said, "And he was already pissed off at you for that thing that happened last week with the camel and…"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it!" Vogels said, cutting off Cobin before he could finish the less than flattering story. "So give me the highlights, what was this brief all about?"

Cobin sighed, "New mission. You remember that haji we picked up about a month back, after he blew up our convoy?"

"Yeah, what about him?" Vogels said, sitting up in his bed.

"We're going to his fuckin' haji hut in his haji village in the middle of fucking-haji-nowhere."

"What? Why?" Vogels said, very confused.

"That part isn't our business," Cobin said, shrugging, "But our platoon is escorting an MFT out there so it probably means he asked for something from his interrogator that they can only get from his house. Or at least, that's my read of it."

"Damn," Vogels said, "heavy shit."

"Yeah, no kidding."

Vogels suddenly got this sort of strained look on his face that he only got when he was thinking really hard about something, and it usually meant something really bad was about to come out of his mouth. "You know, what man? We should go ahead and kill his whole fucking haji family, for revenge."

Cobin was pretty taken aback by that statement, and his face took on this bewildered look. "Get the fuck out of here with that bullshit, Vogels. Go jerk off before your murder boner explodes and takes out your legs."

"Hey, fuck you, man!" Vogels said, but he didn't push it, he just laid back down on his bunk and turned away from Cobin.

Cobin shook his head, " _Stupid fucking bastard,"_ he said under his breath before turning back to his letters.

 _God may hate both of us, but the devil welcomes only me._

…

Cobin's first sensation when he opened his eyes from the dream was nausea, followed closely by the very clear and undeniable knowledge that he was about to vomit. There was no time to make it to the wash room, the best he could do was simply roll over and allow his bile to expel onto the floor, not onto his bedding and not clogging his throat and choking him. It was mostly water (or, what had been water when it had entered his stomach), and spread all over his floor like tendrils of some nasty liquid spider web. He watched helplessly from his bed as the mess he would have to clean up grew and saliva dripped from his mouth, which was taking in harsh, deep breaths.

No one was waiting for him this morning, no audience to bear witness to this moment of weakness, and for that he was thankful. Everyone was at school, or at work, or otherwise occupied. He was no longer the strange new zoo animal that everyone needed to make time to see. He sighed, and sat up in bed, and wiped off his mouth with his sheet. He rubbed his eyes and thought, _It's my first day at work, wouldn't be good form to be late._

He cleaned up quickly. He didn't have time to properly mop but he soaked up all of his fluids with some paper towels and sprayed down a layer of disinfectant before he got changed into his work clothes. From the various items he had from the shopping trip, he selected a grey suit with nice, light blue tie. The suit was comfortable, and allowed for a greater range of motion than he would have expected from a such a garment. Cobin was never a suit person, he wore his dress uniform when it was demanded of him, but he was the sort of guy who would never get out of his PJ's when he wasn't at work, even if he needed to go out in public. That being said, he liked the way the suit looked on him quite a bit, and believed the costume would only need a proper suit case to be complete. This, of course, he didn't have. And even if he had one, he had nothing to put in it.

He was still set to arrive at his office on time when he finally finished buttoning up the shop and had closed the door behind himself. There had been a little bit of worry when he had first woken up that he wasn't going to make it, but that was lifted now. He walked at a leisurely pace down his driveway, and down the street toward the main cluster of academic buildings. His office would be in the same building as the main combat arena, as well as the gym. All of the other academic buildings were by-and-large year-specific; because his governance was over all of the students, Goodwitch had set him up in neutral territory.

As he got closer, and began seeing students still milling about before the start of their first classes, there was more than one student he had never spoken to before that greeted him with a "Good morning, Mister Cobin!" or even "Professor Cobin." This caught him off guard at first, but he reasoned that after these explosive first couple of weeks his name had finally started to get around. He returned these greetings politely, but quickly in the same manner he had as an NCO, with a sharp " _Goodmorning,_ " and a slight nod of the head.

His office, tucked in a corner near the opposite end of the building from the arena, was already mostly furnished with the things he would be needing for this job. He had a good sized desk with a desktop scroll and a printer, one comfortable chair for himself and three less than comfortable chairs for whoever was unlucky enough to find themselves in his office, and plenty of filing cabinets and folders for him to keep records on all of the students who passed through his door. He sat down behind his desk and took in a deep breath. _This is life now,_ he thought, _this is… normal._ This thought, much to his own surprise, made him smile. For the first time in quite a while, he felt something like being at peace.

Cobin looked toward the top most drawer on his desk, and out of some intuition-based impulse he reached forward and opened it. Sure enough, sitting inside was a sealed envelope with his name on it. Inside the envelope, Cobin found a nicely folded piece of paper, and an ID card. Examining the ID card, he found it to be rather similar to the Common Access Cards, or CACs, that he was issued in the Army. It had his picture (although he could not remember ever having it taken while he had been there), his affiliation with his school, his Vale residency information, as well as his title and credentials as an Expert Level Instructor. Very official stuff.

Cobin set the ID card down on the desk and opened the small piece of paper that had accompanied it. There, in Goodwitch's own expert handwriting, was a brief message for him:

" _You should have everything you need in here to get started, but feel free to furnish the office further however you please._

 _Enclosed is your ID card, this is more of a formality than anything as all of your credentials and relevant information as an instructor has already been uploaded to your personal scroll. However, Professor Ozpin believed you would appreciate having a more material copy._

 _I have no doubt that by lunch your line of customers will stretch down the hall, Professor Cobin. Good luck."_

The sentiment was short but surprisingly sweet for Goodwitch, maybe he was really making a decent impression on these people.

…

Cobin spent the first couple hours of the morning drafting the necessary documents he would be needing; primarily counseling forms which he modeled after the ones he had used as an NCO in the Army, with necessary adjustments to fit the environment of the school. Each student would have an initial counseling form that would be filled out the first time they had to take a trip into his office, and that would begin the student's file. With each subsequent visit, the student would collect another counseling form, detailing transgressions and punishment, or "re-training." He would use the cabinets to organize the student's files both alphabetically and by year. He was just putting the finishing touches on one of his drafts when there was a knock on his door.

"Enter," he said, looking up over the top of his monitor.

The door swung open, and as soon as he saw who it was, Cobin sighed and put his face into his free hand. "Nora," he said, "What in the world did you do?"

The energetic orange-haired girl had a sheepish look on her face, and her cheeks were rosy red. "Good morning Roc… I mean Professor Cobin!" she said, not leaving the threshold of the doorway. As expected, Ren's head appeared over her shoulder.

 _Nothing separates these two,_ Cobin thought. "Alright, come on in, have a seat."

The two students stepped inside and sat down across from Cobin. Ren, stoic as ever, had no problem looking right up and at Cobin. Not so with Nora, the girl was very obviously diverting her gaze and looked nervous.

"Ren, I assume that you're here simply by virtue of association?" Cobin asked, directing his attention to the male student. Ren nodded. "That's what I thought, and whose class are you coming from?" Cobin asked.

"Doctor Oobleck," Ren said.

"Hmm," Cobin said, turning to Nora, "well I'm sure I'll be receiving an email from him at some point detailing the events, but would you like an opportunity to explain yourself beforehand?"

Nora looked up at Cobin and nodded, still rosy-cheeked. "It's all Cardin's fault!" she burst out.

"I will determine that," Cobin said, "but in order to do so I need you to tell me what happened."

"Well…." Nora said, becoming transfixed on an imaginary spot in the corner to the room, "Cardin was bothering the girl sitting next to him, and making a lot of noise while Oobleck was trying to teach. So, I had to stop it!"

"She shot him," Ren said, "with a grenade launcher."

Nora turned to her partner and squinted. The feeling of betrayal resonated throughout the entire room.

Cobin just stared wide eyed at the girl, "You shot him with a grenade launcher? Like, with projectile explosives, you shot him. In the middle of class. _With a grenade launcher_."

"Well, yes," the girl said.

Cobin took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. _So this is what Goodwitch meant by 'good luck.'_ he thought. "Alright," he said, regaining his composure, "So this is how this works. The first time you come into my office, I do an initial counseling, and this begins your file. For everyone's first time in my office, I am going to assume ignorance. What that means, is that today you aren't going to be punished in any way. What will happen is that you and I will review the rules and expectations that are placed upon you as a student at this school, when we are done you will sign a piece of paper that clearly states you understand all of these rules and expectations. That way, if you ever find yourself in my office again, the only explainable reason will be that you made a willful and conscious decision to ignore these rules and expectations, and you will not like what comes after that. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir!" Nora said.

"Okay, then, let's get started."

…

As the day went on Cobin had a steady stream of students coming to his office from all years with different stories and attitudes. Cobin kept his surprise to himself, he hadn't expected to have this many customers so quickly. He guessed that the teachers were eager to utilize this new resource they had in him in order to control their more trying students. Many new files found new homes in cabinets as Cobin refined his organization of them. In between interacting with students he had many emails to reply too, from administration all the way down to maintenance. Blake had brought him something from the cafe for lunch, but they didn't get a chance to speak because he was with a student at the time, and the meeting didn't end until it was time for class to resume. Despite the fact that it was hectic, Cobin was happy to be busy. Once he was in the swing of things, he was home.

The day was coming to close and Cobin was putting the finishing touches on an email he was going to send up to Goodwitch before he intended to head home. However, this is not what fate had planned for him. As soon as he had hit the send key, three solid knocks sounded on his door. Cobin looked at the time, and saw that it was already a half hour past when the last class should have ended. It was strange, but he was still at work, which meant he still had a job to do.

"Come in," He said.

The door opened, revealing a grey hair male and a green haired female, both of which he didn't recognize and both which looked exceedingly miffed. They were wearing the uniforms from one of the visiting combat schools, Haven Academy. One Beacon's security officers appeared behind them.

"Found these two loitering in an area restricted to the visiting students," The security officer said, pushing the two into Cobin's office, "Heard we had a disciplinary officer now, figured I'd take them to you."

"I'll handle them," Cobin said, "Where were they exactly?"

"They were hanging around the armory," The security officer said, "No Beacon students are allowed there without escort, and no visiting students are allowed period."

As the security officer said this, he noticed the female student's head tilt, just in the slightest way, as if she was listening more intently to what the officer had to say. Collecting intelligence. Cobin brushed off this as old-soldier paranoia, but made a mental note to speak to the Chief Security Officer about the meaning of "Operational Security."

"Very well," Cobin said, "You can leave them here, I'll decide what to do about it."

And with that, the security officer nodded and left, closing the door behind him. There was a few moments of silence as Cobin and students stared at each other. "Well, might as well take a seat," Cobing said, "None of us go home until we get this over with." The students did as he suggested, sitting down with arms folded and legs crossed, very guarded postures. "I don't have a protocol yet for handling students from the visiting schools," Cobin said, "So instead of starting a file on you, I'm going to make a standard report on the situation, which will be sent up to the head chaperoning instructor for Haven, as well as my boss. Although this was probably just a harmless mistake, it still counts as a security risk which is beyond the scope of my responsibility. The powers that be will decide how you will be corrected for these actions." Cobin sighed, "Now, if you have anything to add, you may do so now. Otherwise I will write my report with only the information given to me by the security officer. Have anything to say?" The two students gave no reply, verbal or otherwise. "Very well,' Cobin said.

Not a moment later, his door opened without warning. This was the first time this had happened all day, and it alarmed Cobin mildly. His eyes focused on the figure of a woman standing in his door. She had bright red hair, and also wore the Haven Academy uniform. But something about her was different, her presence threatened Cobin in a way he had not felt for a long time. There was an intention behind the woman's very being that Cobin could feel, but couldn't define.

"Excuse me," Cobin said, "I'm in a meeting, unless this concerns the loss of life, limb, or eyesight, you'll have to wait outside."

"I'm a chaperoning instructor for Haven Academy," The woman said, "these students are under my charge and I'm here to take them off your hands." The woman spoke with a smile, charming. To the untrained she probably seemed harmless, but Cobin knew better.

"Oh really?" Cobin said, "Alright, mind if I get your name?"

The woman approached the desk, and stood between the two students, resting a hand on both their shoulders. "My name is Miss Fall," she said, "And I'm terribly sorry, these two are my top troublemakers, I'll handle them accordingly."

"It's no problem at all," Cobin said, smiling back at her, "You know it's interesting. This morning I received an email containing a list of _all_ the chaperones from the various visiting schools, and I don't believe your name was on it," Cobin watched as the woman's smile fell from her face, "I'm also unaware of any of the schools making their instructors wear the student uniforms."

The woman's face was lined with anger, concealed well but not completely, "Professor, I…"

Cobin raised his hand to stop her from continuing. "I'm not sure what Haven Academy's policy is concerning students attempting to impersonate instructors, but I imagine that it's not just a slap on the wrist. I'll be sure to include you in my report," Cobin smiled at the woman, but inside, she scared him, he didn't want to be backed into a corner by her without anyone to back him up. He could deal with the situation more thoroughly later. He figured that these were not the best circumstances under which he should "accidentally" die. "That being said, I don't believe anyone here is willing to further contribute to said report, so you may leave with your peers, Miss Fall. I advise you not to damage your own situation any more than you already have."

The woman made a "Hmpf!" noise as she turned around to leave, "Let's go, you two," she said. The two other students stood, and began to follow her. As she walked away, the woman muttered something under her breath, but with Cobin's standard issue Army hearing loss, he coudn't make it out. Despite this, he had a response.

"Miss Fall," he said.

"What?" the woman asked, frustration in her voice as she stopped and turned back toward him.

"God may hate us both, but the devil welcomes only me," he said.

"You'll have to forgive me, _professor,_ I don't do metaphors." she snarled at him.

Cobin chuckled, he never once showed fear, "It means that whatever bad you think you can bring into this world, I can do a whole lot worse. Keep that in mind next time you decide to barge into my office."

The woman locked eyes with him for a moment, but then turned and left without offering a response. Once they were beyond the threshold, the green haired student turned around and grabbed his door, almost slamming it shut. Once their was a barrier between him and the three, Cobin sunk down deep into his chair, and took in a few deep breaths. He may have not been any good at poker, but goddamn he could bluff. And good thing for it, too. He never pictured himself dying in an office. After a few moments, he collected himself and got back onto his desktop scroll. He had a report to write.

…

Cobin walked back across campus toward his garage with his suit coat slung over his shoulder, moving slowly but deliberately, taking in the good weather. He suddenly felt a presence walking next to him. He smiled because he knew exactly who it was.

"You gotta teach me how to do that," Cobin said.

Ruby giggled, "Do what?"

"Appear out of thin air like that. Seems like a useful skill."

"Just takes a bit of practice. Having siblings you have to sneak up on helps," she said, "Sooooooooo… how was your first day at work?"

"Good," Cobin said, "Busy but… good. I think I'm getting into the swing of things, and most people are respectful or at the very least reasonable. I think I can do this. Just… tell Nora to try and use her words before she jumps right into using explosives."

"Oh, we tell her that all the time. It just doesn't help."

"Excellent," Cobin laughed, "So, how was class today?"

"Borrrrinnggggggg," Ruby whined, in the typical fasion of a girl her age, "I just got out of Grimm Studies. You think it would be interesting but Professor Port uses up most of his time telling war stories. Guts and Glory and all that."

"That's upsetting, there's a lot more to war than guts and glory." Cobin sighed, thinking, "Hmm."

"What's on your mind?" Ruby asked, looking curiously up at him.

"Nothing, just got an idea."

"Ooooo Tell me, Tell me!"

Cobin laughed, "Not quite yet, I'll have to run it by Ozpin. But I think I might have a better war story for you than the ones you get from Professor Port."

Ruby's eyes got wide "Yes, please!" she said, always eager to learn new things about her friend and his world.

They stopped in front of the driveway leading up to Cobin's shop. His first thought was to shoo Ruby off so he could have some time to himself to unwind after his first day at work, he was pretty tired and didn't think he would make adequate company. But then, he remember the three Haven Academy students, and decided it might be best to not be alone right now.

"Hey, you want to come in and have a soda?" he asked, smiling at her.

"Yes!" she said, jumping. And with that, they went inside.

…

 **So I guess I need to explain something, considering it's been about six months now I think. When I started writing this story I did so in order to cope with suddenly losing my father to brain cancer. I wrote and posted the story as a way to keep my mind occupied so I wouldn't completely lose it. Once writing the story stopped fulfilling its purpose, I stopped writing it. Yet here I am, writing it again some several months later, probably because I do like it quite a bit, although I feel as though it means a great deal less now that the third season of RWBY is out (I've been putting off watching it, so I don't know what happens.) I've had this chapter partially finished in my .docs for a while now and at the very least wanted to get it out into the world. What comes after this, who knows. I won't mark the story as "complete" because in my mind I'm not finished with it, but we'll see if that becomes reality.**

 **A note on the music. I'm not changing it. This a character study first and a war story second, and Cobin doesn't like Metallica. The music is there to play into the themes of the scene that's happening at that moment, I have it there because I believe it creates a better picture of what I'm trying to convie. I recommend that my readers listen to the music featured in every chapter after reading. However, this is not necessary.**

 **A final note, the movie** _ **Jarhead**_ **will come into play in one of the following chapters. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it (although once again this won't be necessary to understand this story.) If you have seen** _ **Jarhead 2**_ **and/or** _ **Jarhead 3,**_ **that doesn't count. Those two movies are cheap action flicks that have no bearing on or resemblance to the original. (As a side note, I strongly believe that** _ **Jarhead**_ **should be mandatory viewing material for anyone wishing to join the Armed Forces. Have to eat your vegetables before the recruiters and Drill Sergeants feed you the Koolaid.)**

 **As always, thanks for reading!**

 **-Wahs.**


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